Sunday, 2 October 2011

SATURDAY BREAKFAST #8: NEPEAN HIGHWAY, EDITHVALE

Visited 1 October, 2011

Rarely have we been to a more despondent shopping strip; gloom is written on its face.  About one-third of premises are closed, and only a few of these have plaintive “for let” signs, the others having opted not to waste their breath.
Other busy through-roads have produced bustling retail trade; other streets forced to be one-sided by a railway allotment have thrived nonetheless.  So what is it about Edithvale that it should be so afflicted?  Maybe it’s simply the close proximity of established retail centres at Chelsea (to the south) and Mordialloc (to the north).  Or maybe Edithvale is just a sad-sack place, and that’s that.
Even Edithvale’s entry in Wikipedia is a slap in the face.  Under the heading “History” there is mention of one historical event only, that the post office opened in April 1923!  Under the heading “Public transport” we are told that there is a railway station!  The “Edithvale Beach” entry informs us that Edithvale is best known for its “long beach of pure white sand”, then proceeds to recount that the beach has since the 1970s been irreparably contaminated with coarse yellow hard gritty sand that has arrived courtesy of reclamation works undertaken one beach to the north at Aspendale.  And then there was the installation of the sewer line to the beachfront properties in the 1960s, in the course of which the whole of the coastal sand dunes were levelled; and then non-indigenous grasses were introduced to hold the sand together, and now these plague species cover almost all the beach………….but it’s only coarse yellow hard gritty sand anyway, so why complain about it being covered with vegetation?  The Wikipedia author needs a life lesson about not leading with your weaknesses.  Worse, there’s precious little mention of Edithvale’s strengths – unless you include the football team, and the Wetlands Ramsar site with its opportunities for birdwatching walking and cycling.
The shopping strip has a number of unattractive restaurants, none of which was open on this Saturday morning.  There was one breakfast place, which looked less than promising, but provided more-than-adequate bacon and scrambled egg.  When we complimented the bacon we were told that there had been a mistake with the standing order for streaky bacon, and honey-cured bacon had been delivered instead.  Our good fortune; but, unintentional or not, the excellent bacon was not sufficient to compensate for the coffee - which despite my plea for “extra hot” had been served at quaffing temperature. 
The décor of the breakfast place might be described as having a “personal touch”, the translation for which is shambolic.  The reason for the general untidiness was, to some degree, due to the accompanying business, run from the large back room but overflowing into the café.  The back room is a mosaic workshop.  We asked, and yes, lessons are available.  On the café wall was a large framed mosaic picture - a pastoral scene, mostly in pastel-shaded tiles, depicting an Indian princess-type in flowing sari, holding a lotus in her upturned hands.  The craft of mosaic making can be taught; the art of good taste cannot.
One shop window in the Edithvale strip is a surprising difference from all others.  The premises seem to be used as a workshop, and some of the output is displayed in the window.  The proprietor makes presentation boxes for wedding photographs and for Wills (cross my heart).  However, the window also holds three model ships – somewhat battered, and of considerable vintage, seemingly not for sale.  One of these is of the Weeroona, an impressive model almost three metres long.  There are bits of accompanying information, including a notice saying that the model is driven by two small batteries.  I would suggest, from the general look of the window, that – batteries or not - it’s a long time since the Weeroona replica graced any duck pond.
The full-scale Weeroona was the last of the steamers that provided a passenger and excursion service around Port Phillip.  Several centres of population and recreation had appeared around the Bay by the late 1800s, and there was no railway service.  These centres prospered with the emergence of the Bay steamers. 

From 1870, the PS Golden Crown provided a daily service from Melbourne to Mornington, Dromana and Sorrento, and outside the Port Phillip heads to Queenscliff.  The PS Golden Crown, of 200 feet and 330 tons, was a paddle steamer, as was each of its successors.  It operated until 1888 and was broken up in 1892.  [The railway came to Quenscliff in 1879, but there has never been a railway to the Bay centres beyond Frankston.]

PS Lonsdale had an even shorter operating life.  With the unlikely symmetry of 228 feet length and 228 tons displacement, she was launched in 1882, but closed for business in 1889 when she broke her moorings in a storm, and was stranded on Port Melbourne beach.  Although re-floated, the repair costs were considered to be too great, and PS Lonsdale was scrapped in 1891.
The entrepreneur, George Coppin, was behind the construction of PS Ozone – 260 feet and 572 tons – whose Bay service commenced in 1886.  Coppin was an amazing character, amazing for his resilience, and amazing for the breadth of his interests.  Born in England in 1819, he came to Australia in 1842 as an actor.  Not only was Coppin an actor but he established theatrical companies and theatres in several Australian cities.  The memorial plaque in Melbourne’s Comedy Theatre describes him as “Philanthropist and Father of the Theatre in Victoria”.
More than that, Coppin set up a menagerie at Cremorne and imported the first camels into Australia – the camels that were later seconded to the Burke and Wills expedition.  He was bankrupted more than once. 
He was a Richmond Councillor, a member of the Victorian Legislative Assembly, and later of the Legislative Council.  He believed that Parliamentarians should be unpaid, and when his colleagues voted otherwise he gave his salary to charity.
Coppin had a seaside home at Sorrento - plus the Continental Hotel, the swimming baths, and a tramway from the Bay beach to the ocean beach - and it is no surprise that he was behind the formation of the Bay Excursion Steamer Company Ltd and that company’s commissioning of the Ozone.  PS Ozone plied the Bay, delivering the day trippers to the picnic grounds near the piers, and delivering the holiday-makers to the numerous hotels and guest houses.  PS Ozone was described at the time of her construction as the finest paddle steamer ever built.  There were three decks, bars, a luxurious dining room, and a ladies’ hairdresser.  There was electric lighting throughout, remarkable given that Edison had developed a practical version of the incandescent lamp a mere seven years earlier.  All this modernity, however, could not counteract the declining patronage, and PS Ozone left the stage in 1918, a few years after Coppin (who had died in 1906).  The fittings were removed, and in 1925 the hulk was sunk in shallow water off Indented Head near Queenscliff where it remains a popular dive site.
The final two Bay steamers were built for the Huddart Parker shipping company, one of the several Australian companies involved in coastal shipping.  PS Hygeia commenced its life in 1890. It was of 300 feet and 986 tons, clearly larger than its three predecessors.  It carried upwards of 1600 passengers.  Hygeia served the people of Victoria for 40 years before being taken from service in 1930.  In 1932 she was scuttled off Barwon Heads.
Then came the grande dame of them all, PS Weeroona – 310 feet, 1412 tons, and 1900 passengers – launched in 1910.  At that time there were three Bay steamers operating, and they combined to issue joint excursion tickets.  Their number was reduced to two with Ozone’s departure in 1918; and Hygeia’s de-commissioning in 1930 left PS Weeroona all alone.  Weeroona notched up 32 years in Port Phillip, before being sold to the American Navy in 1942 for use as a convalescent ship.  She survived the then War, was purchased by the Australian Government in 1945, sold for scrap in 1951 and stripped before being sunk off Berry Bay in NSW.
The expression "romantic era" is much over-used, and in truth such eras might not have been so romantic at the time; still, looking back, the thought of paddle steamers on Port Phillip leaves a romantic afterglow.  The Bay steamers are little remembered today, and I’m grateful that on this inhospitable morning I saw, in a window in out-of-the-way Edithvale, a scale model to remind me.  I had known some of the story, and the names of some of the passing parade, and have learnt more as this Piece took shape.

Gary Andrews
 

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