Coronavirus: Last drinks at the Fortune of War pub: ‘I think it’s overkill’

At noon, Australia’s oldest pub waved goodbye to the last of its drinkers, shut its doors and began the journey into bleak ­uncertainty.

Regulars Doug Thomas, left, and Sam Vojsk leave the Fortune of War amid the shutdown uncertainties. Picture: John Feder

At noon on Monday, Australia’s oldest pub, the Fortune of War Hotel at Sydney’s historic The Rocks, waved goodbye to the last of its drinkers, shut its doors and began the journey into bleak ­uncertainty.

Across Sydney, bars, restaurants and registered clubs closed their businesses as part of an ­unprecedented slowdown of Australian public life.

“Shut down’’ was the term being used but not the one that applied. Shops were open, trams were running, the streets bustled with office workers, although their numbers were greatly diminished.

Like many of the measures instituted these past few weeks, Monday’s shutdown was a compromise aimed at curbing the spread of COVID-19 while preserving what little remains of Australia’s shattered retail economy.

There was no missing the eerie quiet on Sydney’s streets. It was jarringly at odds with the holiday-like scenes on the city’s beaches, which, in the eyes of many, were what contributed to the government’s decision to drop the hammer on the city’s hospitality trade.

“I never thought I’d see it happen,’’ Fortune regular Sam Vojsk said.

“I’m not happy about it ­although I can understand it. But I think it’s overkill.’’

Mr Vojsk has been drinking at the Fortune of War for 30 years. When he heard the pub was due to shut, he and mate Doug Thomas hurried down for last drinks.

“No one knows when it’s going to end,’’ Mr Thomas said.

“It’s only a couple of days ago ScoMo said we’re going to keep the pubs open.’’

Publican Steven Speed was busy offloading whatever stock he could back on to the suppliers generous enough to take it.

Signs dissuade pedestrians from pressing Sydney’s buttons. Picture: John Feder

Mr Speed has stood down staff, will lay off others and is planning to move into the 30-room hotel above the pub to manage the few guests that remain.

“Even if we’re back in three months, how long will it be before the ships are back, before the ­tourists are back, before con­fidence returns?’’

For two months, the Morrison government has been conducting a staged assault on COVID-19, the virus whose rapid spread through the community threatens both human life and global prosperity.

Sydneysiders have not helped. For weeks, they have been blithely ignoring advice to socially distance, instead gathering en masse at cafes, bars and beaches.

A city that lived like Italians might soon start dying like them.

And so on Monday transport workers stuck signs to poles warning pedestrians not to touch the buttons at traffic lights and fast-food restaurants turned their chairs on to the tables or roped off dining areas with brightly coloured emergency tape.

Pedestrians were scarce on George Street, Sydney. Picture: John Feder

It was the beginning of what many believe will end with a complete cessation of public life, a total shutdown of all non-essential ­services and an edict that could confine Australians to their homes, possibly for weeks on end.

Dominique Rayner, who works at Nine West at Westfield shopping centre in the heart of Sydney, said she saw little logic in a rule that shut down a pub but allowed a busy shopping centre like Westfield to continue trading.

Every day, hundreds if not thousands of people file through the centre’s food court. “You can’t go to Bondi Beach, but you can go to Westfield,’’ she said.