This was published 1 year ago
Opinion
Sydney should preserve its vintage charms, not toss them in the deep end
Jordan Baker
Chief ReporterA few months before it will be demolished, my local aquatic centre in Sydney’s south-west has been recognised by the National Trust as an “intact and increasingly rare” example of a postwar public pool.
As aquatic centres in nearby suburbs have been redeveloped into indistinguishable, glassy complexes over the past decade, Canterbury Pool, built on the banks of the Cooks River in 1959, was overlooked. And so, it has remained a time capsule, where children still run along sand-coloured non-slip concrete, and where the water depths on the side are measured in feet and inches.
“The Canterbury Pool has an aesthetic significance for its austere international modernist style,” says the National Trust listing, noting the way that austerity is softened with grassy gardens, figs and palm trees.
The pool has been neglected in recent years, first because it faced closure, and then because it awaited redevelopment. The concrete is buckling. The grandstand is rusting. Those “intact and increasingly rare” mid-century features have been left to slowly fall apart.
On February 1, it will shut. The wrecking ball will come to flatten the site and build a brand new aquatic centre in its place. It will cost $45 million. It will look just like every other aquatic centre.
An upgrade was sorely needed; thousands of people are expected to move into the area over the next decade. But doing it in a way that would preserve the pool’s heritage – which was done at Auburn’s Ruth Everuss Aquatic Centre, for example – was never an option put to residents.
The pool is one of the last of its kind in the area. The vintage pools at Marrickville, Petersham and Ashfield have all been replaced. Over on the other side of the harbour, North Sydney pool is losing all but a few elements of its art deco splendour in its troubled revamp. Parramatta’s War Memorial pool has been destroyed.
We look at pictures of old Sydney with sadness about the heritage we’ve lost. We bemoan the decisions of our forebears. Yet we continue to throw it away.
Tim Ross, a comedian and award-winning advocate of modernist architecture, says public pools have not been given the architectural respect they deserved. “The idea that it’s somehow not ‘fit for purpose’ comes out of nowhere,” he says. “The council just decides we have to update everything. What do we lose when we lose an old-fashioned style of swimming pool?
“Historically, this is important – and not just because people of a certain age are getting nostalgic about sunburn and eating Paddle Pops. They have a broader story to tell. If we turn around and there’s none left, the story is gone forever.”
Bronwyn Hanna, the historian and heritage expert who applied for the pool’s National Trust listing, said Australia’s suburban pools were an important part of the country’s cultural heritage. “We haven’t picked up on it and noticed it,” she says.
Most of the Canterbury Bankstown corridor will meet the wrecking ball over the next few decades. If decisions made over the past few years are any indication, the area’s remaining scraps of heritage will go with it.
Canterbury Bankstown Council said the National Trust listing had no statutory effect. “Although the current centre may have a nostalgic sense about it for some members of the community, it does not have heritage value nor is it in a condition that can be maintained or able to meet the needs of current and future generations,” it said in a report to the Sydney South Planning Panel.
Heritage is not just about federation houses. It’s about community, and people and, yes, nostalgia. The great cities of the world can manage to combine the old and the modern, as do wealthier areas of Sydney. If we’re not careful, Philistine councils will keep allowing treasures to be bulldozed, and they will create a city in which heritage is for the rich.
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