Razorhurst, Gunhurst, Bottlehurst, Dopehurst – it used to be Darlinghurst, one of the finest quarters of a rich and beautiful city; to-day it is a plague-spot, where the sporn 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 property, decency & virtue, & to fight one another for division of spoils. (Truth, 23 September 1928)

In preparation for my talk, Blood on the streets, I’ve been taking a closer look at the dangerous razor era gangsters who ruled Sydney’s inner east during the 1920s and 30s.

In the 1920s drug and prostitution trades increased, criminals sold alcohol illegally and carried razors for protection and intimidation. At this time the Darlinghurst area was home to thieves, prostitutes, cocaine merchants, sly groggers and murderers. Vice trades were lucrative and often exploited legislation of the day. The newspapers reported sensational articles about the underworld of ‘Razorhurst’ and the limited police force of the day were all but powerless to stifle the gangland activities. ‘Snow Queen’ Kate Leigh and brothel madam Matilda ‘Tilly’ Divine headed the most notorious gangs and were each served by a team of loyal thugs who protected their turf with violence. The introduction of the consorting laws and creation of specialist investigative units finally gave police the upper hand and led to the gradual recoil of violent criminals and a lulling of vice activity on the streets of East Sydney. The Justice and Police Museum’s photography archive has proved a rich source for exploring the criminals and places of the period. These photographs read in conjunction with police records, newspaper reports and other references build a compelling account of this unique and confronting period in Sydney’s past.

I have uncovered never before seen mug shot photographs of prominent razor ear criminals Frank ‘The Little Gunman’ Green and James ‘Big Jim’ Devine. As a brazen gangster and violent husband (respectively), both men were an integral part of the brothel empire built and operated by madam Matilda ‘Tilly’ Devine. Frank Green and ‘Jim’ Devine were often involved in shoot-outs, vicious assaults and altercations with the police, subsequently appearing in court and serving time in gaol. The portraits were taken prior to 1927 – before the height of the razor wars – giving us an insight into the early criminal careers of these tough gangsters.

In October 1949 The Australian Police Journal published a bulletin, which highlights the then emerging approach to accident scene photography.

One good picture of the entire accident scene serves to orient observers and locate objects with respect to permanent markers. Others may give details. Skid marks, point of impact, position of vehicles, view obstructions, traffic control devices, or damaged vehicles should be photographed when they are of value to the case.

F.B.I Law Enforcement Bulletin, October 1949, ‘Accident Investigation’, The Australian Police Journal, Volume 3, Number 4, page 339

This series of photographs was taken on 13 August 1949 after a fatal accident on Catherine Street, Kogarah. Police Photographer Groom attended the accident scene and produced eight negatives showing the site of impact from various distances, the damaged vehicle (including detail shot) and a number of bystanders lining the street.

]]> http://blogs.hht.net.au/justice/index.php/2011/09/06/accident-on-catherine-street-kogarah/feed/ 0 http://blogs.hht.net.au/justice/index.php/2011/08/24/1936/ http://blogs.hht.net.au/justice/index.php/2011/08/24/1936/#comments Wed, 24 Aug 2011 12:30:56 +0000 Holly Schulte http://blogs.hht.net.au/justice/?p=1136 In the 1930s increasing speed and a larger number of vehicles meant road authorities began focusing on the cause of traffic accidents. During this early period of crash investigation police usually took only one or two photographs, often not at the location where the accident occurred. In these early examples its impossible to speculate on the cause of an accident as the vehicles are no longer at the scene.

Damaged motor car at a panelbeater's garage. Photographer and location unknown, c1936 (FP07_0147_016)

This image was taken around 1936 but we are not sure where the garage was (or is) located. The man smoking a cigarette (to the right of frame) could be the detective investigating the accident in which this vehicle was damaged.

Corner of Liverpool and Castlereagh streets, Sydney. Photographer unknown, 1930s (FP07_0195_006)

Sydney’s streets changed as a result of the increased motor traffic. Subsequent law reforms were made to better manage flow and congestion, also leading to driver and road safety education programs. The archive reveals these changes by showing how the roads looked before any traffic lights, road markings or street signs were installed. The Police Commissioner decided the site for Sydney’s first set of traffic lights would be the intersection of Market and Kent streets, in the city. These traffic lights were operational from 11 am on Friday 13 October 1933 and by 1975 over one thousand sets had been installed in the Sydney area. The implementation of this technology meant that police were no longer responsible for directing traffic at busy intersections like this one.

Hand signals for motorists. Photographer and location unknown, c1923. (FP08_0014_005)

This quirky photograph has been inscribed with the words “Traffic signals vehicle or car 472”. In 1921 the need to regulate traffic saw the introduction of hand signals for motorists when stopping or turning. By 1924 the use of these hand signals had became compulsory. Presumably police used this image for demonstrations or when instructing drivers.

These photographs show New South Wales first radar set sitting conspicuously in the rear of a police car during testing at Sydney University. Prior to radar technology exact speeds of travel could not be measured and speeding drivers, known as ‘scorchers’, were charged with ‘furious driving’.

The newspapers of the day published a number of articles about the introduction of the radar set. My favourite headline reads “Motorist laughed at radar: booked’. When the offending driver was waved to stop he laughed and continued driving. The newspaper failed to mention if his speeding ticket eventually arrived in the mail.

Another series of photographs dated 25 November 1954 show motoring officials – including the police commissioner and then premier, Mr. Cahill – attending a demonstration at Moore Park. The police intended to reduce the road toll by using radar technology as a deterrent to speeding motorists.

Morton met author Peter Doyle at the museum this week and the two traded tales of con men and card sharps. Doyle relayed tricks on the Sydney scene while Morton brought the international perspective on Australian confidence men and women who operated in Europe in the 20th century.

One such criminal character was Sidney “Pretty Sid” Grant (above), who was photographed by Sydney police in 1921. Grant’s New South Wales Police Gazette entry from 1923 is captioned “Confidence man (notes for gold)”. He mastered the con trick known as “the hot-seat” during his travels in Europe.

From the late 19th century, Australia exported a series of high-class con men and card sharps who for the next 50 years swindled the gullible English, French and Germans with their tales of infallible betting systems, unbeatable horses, sudden inheritances and lost lucky rosaries. By their sleight of hand, and aided and abetted by their womenfolk – who posed as their sisters, daughters and wives – they extracted fortunes from foolish poker players and over-amorous gentlemen. By the end of World War II, Scotland Yard believed that, of the 216 international confidence men working the European capitals, 58 were Australian born. In the 1960s there was a new invasion. In place of the confidence men came teams of high-class thieves known collectively as the Kangaroo Gang, who stole to order anything from jewellery to a baby chimpanzee from a zoo.

Saturday’s talk will explore these enthralling stories that also feature in Morton’s latest book Kings Of Stings: The Greatest Swindles From Down Under. Visit the HHT Online Shop to get your copy

To win tickets for this event visit the Historic Houses Trust Facebook page

Speaker: James Morton
James Morton is a former defence lawyer in England and is one of Britain’s leading expert on crimes and the author of the Gangland Series.

This exhibition presents previously unseen traffic accident photographs taken by police between 1920 and 1964. Recent research on the archive reveals that after the mid-1940s the police approach to photographing accident sites becomes more comprehensive – expanding from one or two shots to a whole series of images. The resulting photographs helped investigators establish the cause of an incident and, if required, were presented in court.

One gallery wall also shows the ways police have been involved in traffic regulation and road safety. The photographs illustrate a range of police activity, from directing traffic at a bustling intersection to teaching children safe road skills. Also included in this selection is the demonstration of New South Wales first radar set, or speed camera, that operated in Sydney from November 1954.

The exhibition opens on Saturday 19 March 2011. Visit the Archive Gallery page for more details.

Storage envelope no. 55/2987 containing 6 cellulose negatives

Ross Gibson’s Crime Scene opened at the museum in late 1999 and was the first exhibition to focus on the archive. Gibson limited his research to negatives dated from the post war period. By this time the New South Wales Police Department had established a special bureau responsible for investigative photography. From the late forties police negatives also became more organised: stored in small brown envelopes, usually noting details of the crime and photographer. Using the envelope names Gibson managed to track down retired members of the Scientific Investigation Bureau and interview them about their working life. During the interviews these ‘scientific men’ spoke about the technical equipment, examination practices and experiences they had in the forties and fifties, a time when forensic investigation was a newly emerging field for the police. This was also the museum’s first encounter with Walter Tuchin.

A decade on, Tuchin’s crime scene photography has returned to the museum. Walter Tuchin: Police Photographer currently showing in the Archive Gallery, is the museum’s first display of the work of a single, still living photographer from the archive. Tuchin worked as a member of the Scientific Investigation Bureau between 1952 and 1957. In the exhibition Tuchin’s crime scene photographs are presented in two formats. Vertical hanging strips, four images apiece, showcasing a variety of investigations, with small textual summaries derived from police and newspaper reports. Ten framed works also present the diverse and unpredictable nature of Tuchin’s daily work. A personal favourite of mine concerns an attempted suicide. The photo is taken from the edge of a cliff, at The Gap in Vaucluse: a giddy, aerial perspective reveals the power of the waves crashing on the jagged rocks below. Tuchin told me he lay down on his belly, while a detective held onto his heels, to take this image. All the while his upper body snaked over the cliff edge to achieve the best angle for the shot. One of many fascinating stories Tuchin shared, not documented in the official police records or news reporting of the event.

Scene of attempted suicide, The Gap, Vaucluse, 22 November 1955.

When I explore these archival photographs I sometimes imagine myself in the photographer’s position, being called to a crime scene with limited idea of what to expect or the particulars of the location. The chance to speak with Tuchin about his work gave me a personal perspective on the images and an understanding of the resourcefulness required when confronted by the random situations that arose. Tuchin’s gentle, warm and light-hearted manner often seems at odds with the difficult nature of the work he completed in the service of the community. I am still challenged to reconcile Tuchin the genial, elderly man, and the Tuchin, whose name appears on the small brown envelopes. But the more I hear, learn and understand of his experience the more deeply I appreciate the archive… not just for the astounding quality of its images but also for the human experience that lay behind them.

One problem remained – how best to get the hefty new air conditioning unit into the loft? The unit is 1890 mm tall, 830 mm wide and 550 mm deep, and was clearly too stocky to fit up the narrow, spiral staircase. Our only option was to investigate whether the small window, that provides access to the roof from the loft, would admit the unit.

Luckily, the unit was just smaller than the window opening. With a few millimetres to spare, a crane and small team of able bodies hoisted the unit above the roof (showing tremendous caution for the fabric of the heritage building) and slipped it into the loft space without a hitch. Here are a few photographs to illustrate the delicate operation.

Today the air conditioning unit operates within the negative cool store, providing an environment of about 18 degrees and 35 per cent relative humidity. This environment is cool enough for preservation, reducing the rate of deterioration, yet warm enough to allow us to work in the area, assessing and scanning the photographic material.