From the loft

Recently I strapped on my walking boots and joined the Justice and Police Museum guides for Walk the razor’s edge. The walking tour begins on Oxford Street and snakes through Darlinghurst visiting the haunts associated with underworld vice and crime. Much of the terraced landscape remains unaltered from the 1920s and 30s when it served as the epicentre of Sydney’s crime, vice and violence. The criminal characters, laws of the day and major world events saw Darlinghurst take centre stage through one of Sydney’s most violent periods in history. This tour explores the razor gang era and introduces East Sydney’s most notorious criminals on their home turf.

Throughout the tour the museum’s negative archive was employed to great advantage allowing participants a face-to-face encounter with the criminals and streetscapes of the past. The revealing portraits and street views photographed by police in the 1920s and 30s document the troubled area and its tough inhabitants. The tour draws on a variety of records, including news stories, documents and published histories, and presents a gripping yet informative view of Razorhurst’s underworld.

The razor became the weapon of choice for intimidation, and if necessary enforcement, after the enactment of The Pistol Licencing Act (1927) made it illegal to carry a firearm without a license. The razor was a persuasive ally and if used to full effect would leave the victim with a deep and recognizable scar, as this image of Edward Dalton testifies.

Prior to its recent incarnation as a jazz venue, serving tapas with a trendy roof top bar the Tradesman’s Arms Hotel was a popular meeting place for many members of Sydney’s underworld. The hotel was commonly known as the “Bloodhouse” due to the countless scenes of violence that played out within its walls. Tilly Devine along with Nellie Cameron and Guido Caletti frequented the establishment and no doubt brought with them a swathe of associates and enemies. Devine’s main brothel was located just across the way at 253 Liverpool Street. Cameron was often referred to as Sydney’s most desirable prostitute who spent much of her working life at Tilly’s address. Meanwhile, across the street, her beau (thug and leader of the Darlinghurst Push), Calleti may have waited for his moll with a Tooths Ale in hand and a concealed razor.

The Tradesman’s Arms Hotel has since been renamed the East Village Hotel and is a popular pub and restaurant in East Sydney. There is little evidence left in the slick interiors to indicate its notorious and bloody history. Yet for all this, the building still proudly boasts “Tradesman’s Arms Hotel” and “1918” on its facade.

The Walk the razor’s edge tour reveals many signs of the past and the subtle remnants of the raging days of Razorhurst are bought to the fore. The unsavory, seductive and criminal history of this area is distilled and its essence presented from the safe distance of 50 years. In a final note I would like to share an extract published in Truth newspaper during September 1928. The passage conjures up vivid description of Darlinghurst during the razor gangs rule:

“Razorhurst, Gunhurst, Bottlehurst, Dopehurst – it used to be Darlinghurst, one of the finest quarters of a rich and beautiful city; today it is a plague spot where the spawn of the gutter grow and fatten on official apathy. By day it shelters in its alleys, in its dens, the Underworld people. At night it looses them to prey on prosperity, decency and virtue, and to fight one another for the division of the spoils……Recall the human beasts that, lurking cheek by jowl with decent people, live with no aim, purpose or occupation but crime – bottle men, dope pedlars, razor slashers, sneak thieves, confidence men, women of ill repute, pickpockets, burglars, spielers, gunmen and every brand of racecourse parasite.” Truth, September 1928