“Old buildings whisper to us in the creaking of the floorboards 

and the rattling of the window panes.”

Fennel Hudson

A Meaningful Life – Fennel’s Journal No 1

Old buildings have always fascinated me. The older and more dilapidated, the more intriguing. This one was no exception: a building that had stood tall and proud for over 150 years but now ached with the pain of old age. A crusty stone façade exposed the ravages of time and environmental degradation. Inside cracked floorboards scrambled invisible footprints of the many who had traversed them, playing a vital role in its rich varied history.

I loved that old building. It was a fine example of what many new buildings lacked – character and history. It was soon to be gone forever however, a victim of the escalating push for urban renewal in the 21st century. I was on a mission to capture that character and record the history for everyone now and future generations to appreciate.

I found a quiet spot, out of the potential path of the scores of pedestrians soon to hit the pavement. I erected my folding chair and placed my bag containing my sketch pad and pencils, a flask of coffee and a few snacks beside it. This building had been in my mind for a morning of sketching for some time but it was only hearing of its upcoming demise that I bumped it up to the top of my list.

“Morning” a familiar voice greeted me from behind. It was Tom, a member of my urban sketch group who had lately joined my urban rescue missions.

“You’re earlier than usual and very snugly clad for a cold morning I see,” I replied, commenting on his brightly coloured coat with matching beanie and mittens. “It’ll warm up soon,” I assured him.

“So, what’s the story with this one?” 

“I’ve been able to get some old plans from the Council and information from the local historical society but it’s a little patchy.” 

I settled down in the chair, pulled my notepad from my bag and read out some of the information I had so far unearthed:

It was built in 1849 by the Forward Steamship Company as a boarding house for seamen due to its close proximity to the working harbour. It soon became known as The Seafarers Lodge, described in the records as ‘a commodious dwelling house with spacious stores, replete with every convenience. Built from stone it had three floors and a 40 foot frontage on the street.’

By the 1880s its casual residents also included sex workers, travellers with one floor operating as an opium den. During the early years of the 20th century it was bought and sold a number times with some renovations and improvements noted in the Council records. For a few years it housed a doctor’s surgery and manufacturing chemist. 

The Harbour Trust took it over in 1930 to lease out. It morphed into a boarding house for the last time during WW2, this time for the navy. During the 1980s it became a museum with extensive renovations begun but not completed due to the huge cost involved. 

It has been vacant since 2010, left to the elements (and a few rough-sleepers from time to time) while awaiting a decision about its future. Now the State Government is embarking on a number of projects that include this site to increase social housing in an attempt to tackle the housing affordability crisis in major cities. So, despite many protests over the last year or so, it is now earmarked for demolition: in the next few weeks to be precise.

“There,” I quickly added, “another one bites the dust.”

“So much for protests over these buildings,” Tom reminded me. “What about that one a month ago in Reid Street when we were nearly arrested,” he added as he settled into his chair getting his equipment organised for the morning of sketching. 

“Yep. That was a close call. It was only when the gallery confirmed why we were there they eventually let us go. We weren’t disrupting traffic; people were just curious and stopped to investigate. That’s why it's less problematic starting early like this.”   

“So how are the plans for the exhibition going?”   

“Great. Only one more then all they have to do is get them mounted and framed and finish writing up the histories to make them more interesting. Are you sure you don’t want to put some of yours in too?”

I don’t think they are good enough.”

“Well, they are, but it’s up to you.”

It was gradually getting warmer and the light more intense. The city was beginning to awaken and come to life. When I arrived an hour or so earlier it was as if it had been holding its breath through the long cold night. In the distance I could hear the rattling of a couple of trains carrying the precious cargo of city workers and students from suburbs and surrounding towns into the central district for the day. Before long cafes down the street would be opening their doors, setting up tables for breakfast and preparing their coffee machines for takeaways.

I glanced over at Tom, now with his mittens off, totally absorbed in his drawing. I looked down at my empty white page and remembering why we were there, pulled a charcoal pencil from my bag and began…