Glenorchy Tasmania, late 1950's.

Glenorchy was like the big tail end country town of Hobart during my time of living there.
There was no shopping centre, but we had 2 butcher's shops, McShane's Grocery Store,
O'Briens Milk Bar, Barkley's Clothing & Gifts, the Elwick Hotel, a Fish and Chip Shop and cafe, another Fish and Chip shop, a rather odd picture theatre and a newsagency. I think the picture Theatre was called The Melrose.

The tram line came to an end at the bottom of Tolosa Street next to a big convict built church. But, in 1960, all trams stopped running which was a bummer as they were great, but they gave way to buses. I recall the shelter shed where we all huddled in the cold weather to keep warm while waiting for the tram.

Next to O'Brien's bridge was the big convict built tannery or something where the skins of slaughtered animals were sent. I don't know what they did with them, it too had been convict built and if memory serves me correct, it was a brick two storey place.

To swim, everyone went to 'The Grove' where people in days gone by had erected a dressing shed, toilets, and swings. There was also a very old jetty there, I think 'convict built'.

The Grove boasted of the largest shade tree's one could imagine planted by early settlers (or convicts), and the entire area was grassed with lush grass.

It was here where all young people would gather in summer to dive off the jetty and swim in the cool, clean water of the Derwent. Unfortunately, when we walked in the water we had to walk on large round water worn rocks but that was all the more fun.

On the grass we would play chasey, some type of "beach Ball", and of course we would sit and sing songs. It was the 'playground of Glenorchy' set in natural settings and loved by everyone.

Today, not many have heard of The Grove but it was from here men would sit and do a spot of fishing from the jetty with good catches to be had.

Of course we don't remember the large house in the picture. But many other photo's of The Grove and us swimming, and playing there are in existance.

Historical things man destroys for so called 'progress' can never be replaced and forever die outin the memories of man. For this reason alone, I often wonder if progress is really good and replace the word with 'regress'.

The Brooker Highway destroyed much which will never be seen by Australians, what was kept for people to see was the Shot Tower and Port Arthur, and of course the famous (or infamous?) Salamanca Place where early whore houses had been and a man murdered on Kelly's Steps.

During the time I lived in Tasmania, no decent person would go near parts of Salamanca place. Today, things have changed there for the better and all the old whore houses etc; stare down on the throng.

On the corner of Mill Lane in Glenorchy there had been a very old 'convict built' two storey Inn. It was small and dank in rooms, but nevertheless part of Tasmania's history. Here, coaches would stop in Mill Lane to allow passengers to refresh themselves. Mill Lane was cobble stoned only to a point where the coaches stopped.

As young kids, we were not permitted to walk past the Elwick Hotel which was close to O'Brien's Bridge, and almost opposite Mill Lane. It was a very large two storey hotel, and very boisterous. Drunks often fell out the door. I believe it too had been 'convict built'.

It always fascinated me just how many places had been 'convict built'. It seemed that the convicts spent all of their time building.

Beside O'Brien's bridge, just behind Chapel Street, there laid a huge and beautiful Chinese Garden filled with fresh vegetables.

The Chinese lived in a little wooden humpy on their land and were the friendliest of people. There were no women, only men who smoked opium (so everybody said)and yet were able to sell the best vegetables to be bought. The garden itself was huge and the Chinese, being wonderful workers, worked in the garden from sunrise till dark.

The Catholic Church we has attended was so very old and had a history which reached back to it's stained glass windows being brought from England along with it's beautiful 'Stations Of The Cross' monuments. It's architecture was almost identical to the Richmond Catholic Church.

The Church was on the Main Road of Glenorchy, just down from Chapel street on the right hand side of the road.

As one entered the gate of the church, one walked beneath an ancient 'crab apple' tree which spread it's glorious blanches across a well worn path beside which were graves of the long departed, these were set in lawns which was typical of the British Church style in English ancient days. In spring time daffodils would show their golden heads to a gentle, non haste world.

On the corner of Chapel Street was Salters Grocery Store, it was very old, whereas, in Chapel Steet itself was another little grocery store just up from Salters.


The best looking building in Glenorchy was the Post Office! Here, there was a cenotaph and here it was that all Glenorchians laid a wreath on Anzac Day where the haunting refrain of 'The Last Post' would be played.

O'Brien's Bridge was the 'meeting place' for most of we young ones. "Meecha at O'Brien's Bridge!" was a comon call.

Ond ... on the corner of Chapel Street opposite Salters Grocery Store, on the lefe as one turned into Chapel Street, was the old convict built church with it's ancient hedge hiding much of what had once been.

At the top of Chapel Street was a beautiful clear water sort of a shallow damn which was also a popular swiming place for we young people during summer if The Grove was too crowded. Farmlets dotted the road to the dam and we would ride our bikes up there passing fruit trees laden with fruit, (pears and greengage plums being firm favorites as we were sick of apples,) and horses gamboling in paddocks of course!


When Glenorchy was declared a city, we all laughed. But, of course I did not live at Glenorchy then. One of my best friends (and Godfather to my daughter) became one of the Mayors of Glenorchy, and I knew Glenorchy as it had been would be lost to the world. Not because of my friend! But because of ... other reasons ....

And today, it seems, that all photo's of old Glenorchy have vanished, or are being withheld from view.

Many people are not aware that Marcus Clarke who wrote 'For The Term Of His Natural Life', lived near Glenorchy. But most are aware that the ex bushranger, Martin Cash lived there.