As I Remember It..... The Cross & Craigend Street by Rhonnie Some were homeless, some were lost, some a little crazy…. some a lot !

The Cross mid-late 30’s When I was three, I met my friend Julie who was also three!  She was walking into Craigend Street from Surrey St with her doll ‘Janine’ and a small bottle of dolly lollies in hand. I was sitting on my front porch with my nameless doll and no lollies …… she had lollies. Julie and I after our ride on train at Taronga Zoo At that moment, an instant and lifelong friendship was born. We played for hours & ate all the lollies. Our mums became the best of friends and we went to the same primary and high schools and were bridesmaids at each others wedding. Julie lived in Surrey Street when we first met, in a wonderful terrace house. We would play in a playground in Surrey St, which had wooden seated swings, a wooden merry-go-round that went scary fast! A steep metal slippery dip that landed you in that inevitable mud patch at the bottom, but the best thing were the mud cakes you could make with the sandy, powdery, gritty, clay and the water from the drinking fountain. Looking Down Craigend Street (julie walton)

read q&a with rhonnie about this story I was born in the Royal Paddington Woman’s Hospital on April 15 1956, the only child of Francis Colin and Sheila Esme Cooney.  They named me Rhonda Susan Nellie Cooney.   My parents purchased No 30 Craigend Street around 1950, mum lending dad £6 for the deposit of the property. Craigend Street mainly consisted of terraced houses. I recall that even as a child I thought them to be quite beautiful, some with their intricately tiled front porches, others, usually painted in indian red (a rich terracotta colour), long narrow Victorian windows, mostly dressed with satin embroidered drapes, and ring pull tasselled blinds. Lacy wrought iron fences…all with squeaky gates, welcomed you from the street! No 30 Craigend St Kings Cross. (My Dad was very proud of me!)  Not so with our house. We lived on the Northern side of Craigend St, on the slope between Royston St (Then known as Royston Square) and Surrey St. Our home No 30 Craigend St was a blackish brown brick Lodging/ boarding house, which was called a residential, two and three stories in parts, and very box like in appearance, but our home was our castle. The small windows that faced the street had 2cm square mesh screens that had been painted far too many times and the last I remember were biscuit in colour…. however… we did have a gorgeous Victorian tiled  ‘tiny’ porch and a magnificent cedar and glass front door with a brass bar across it. (My mother once cleaned and polished this brass bar with coca-cola in a vain attempt to put me off drinking the stuff)…….I love Coke.

Looking Up Craigend St (julie walton)

My father had his Mechanic/welding business in a lane way off Surrey St… It may have been Oswald Lane but I’m not sure.  We would cross Surrey St at the end of Craigend St, walk past a little corner shop on the left and walk down a precarious ramp which resembled a scene out of some Charles Dickens novel; dark, damp brick walls stood  either side of a steep slippery cement ramp and the wonderful musty smell of dewy moss was always present. I recall one time my mother had packed a nice supper and thermos of tea for my ever working father. I insisted on taking it down to him and mum told me sternly to go very slowly as the ramp was very very slippery, and if I hurried I would slip over and break the thermos. I hurried and slipped over and broke the thermos.

The Cooney workshop

Just two doors down from my fathers work in this very same lane was Alexanders Fine Chocolates. Watching the ladies hand making these chocolates was torture. They would mould a piece of lime, strawberry or orange filling into a small ball and then dip it in and out of the rich warm melted dark or milk chocolate and complete the masterpiece with a signature swirl. I’m glad that dad and Mr Alexander were friends. I got the best Easter eggs in the street….. much to my neighbours Jackie and Candy’s disgust. Mmmm Chocolate

I never became a Nun

The Cross was a place that sailors haunted and drank at in venues like ‘The Texas Tavern’ and ‘The Beef and Bourbon Steakhouse’… noisy, smoky and foody.  A lot of the people were tipsy a lot of the time, but no one thought about kidnapping or drugs. Some were homeless; some were lost, some a little crazy… some a lot, with little or no help… these are the things and characters that made The Cross a place of beauty, passion, and incredible history… Colourful’s the word that comes to mind. The Wayside Chapel was known as the ‘little piece of Heaven’ in the Cross… and it was.

Queen of Hearts, definitely a Cross thing!!! It was an era when it was safe for kids to play in the streets, even in the Cross! right up until dusk. Kids used to dress up, and I mean really dress up.

Primary school for me was St Canices at Rushcutters Bay. A beautiful old church of the same name stands beside the school. I do not think the school exists any more,sadly. I didn’t like school, too much of a daydreamer but I did love sister Mary Joseph Carmel Class of 1966 St Canices

The presentation

The Band

Musical genius

I attended St Vincent’s College Potts Point  (for Ladies, we were constantly told)  Hah! A beautiful and gracious building housed the Boarding part of the school along with some classrooms and the canteen. There was a Chapel within the perfectly sculptured grounds and being an all girls school, we delighted in perving on the young gardeners…. In fact that was the school hobby…. for the nuns as well!

Robert Goulet autographed my hand outside The Chevron Hilton Hotel while I was waiting for the bus after school. I didn’t really know who he was; he was more my parent’s era, but I was in for the autograph anyway.

I stood in a crowd of hundreds outside a hotel opposite the Chevron for a glimpse of  ‘The Monkees’ and wasn’t disappointed.

The 33 Flavour Ice Cream Bar opposite the El alamein Fountain wasn’t exactly awful either. My mother would hurry me past “the Pink Pussy Cat” club and never tell me why!

The Kings Cross Wax Works were just the best and I would save my pocket money so that I could visit there as often as I could. I remember one time I went in to see the newly arrived Royal wax Family and was standing beside this man with binoculars who was also marvelling at the magnificent display.  I said  “life like aren’t they?” ….. He didn’t answer…  he was wax ! Have you any idea how embarrassing that is for a kid who’s whole reason for survival on this earth is to be cool!

My dad played ten pin bowling at Rushcutters Bay bowling Centre and he would pack mum and I up every Wednesday night and take us to watch him. His team were called “the Untouchables” and they were most of the time too heh heh. Frank Cooney at Rushcutters Bowling Centre

Then around my eleventh to twelfth year of age, my mother and father became noticeably upset. They had been given notice that The Main Roads Department of NSW wanted to buy us out. They wanted to knock down our house and many others in Craigend Street in the name of progress to put in a freeway. Many meetings were held in our home, sometimes the crowd spilling out into the street. My parents and neighbours held protests and made it to the newspapers. They signed partitions and wrote letters to Parliament. The Main Roads won and paid the residents a pittance. I think that was a move that broke the spirits of many a tough Aussie Bloke. My poor parents fire sold their beautiful antique furniture…all of it was antique! We left Craigend St when I was thirteen and moved to Maroubra Junction replacing the antiques with blond wood grain, gloss, laminex furniture and then moved on to Kingsford…and that was that!    We Survived.

Frank and Sheila Cooney have gone to a better place now.  I’m married to the best man in the world and have the best family …in…the…world. Rhonnie