Bonbeach rose from the swamp to become a family-friendly bayside gem

It’s a cruel irony that hardly anyone in Melbourne knows where my suburb is but every summer I will be trapped in a traffic jam quietly cursing all the thousands of people who clog my roads, take up my car parks and even park across my driveway just to get to our beautiful beach.

Despite that beach, my suburb is for most a forgettable few kilometres of nondescript housing along the Nepean Highway on the way down the peninsula. Bonbeach doesn’t scream “look at me” like our neighbouring suburbs Chelsea and Carrum, with their bustling main roads and retail areas, or Patterson Lakes with its luxurious network of artificial canals.

Most locals (are we Bonbeachers?) don’t particularly care what other people think about their suburb. There is pride and parochialism in our sports – footy, cricket and netball teams (go Sharks) – but when I tell anyone outside the Kingston municipality (and quite a few within) that I am from Bonbeach, I get that vague “I-don’t-know-where-that-is-but-I-will-pretend-I-do” look. There is nothing special about Bonbeach to the outsider, but to the people who live here, everything is special. I can’t point to a major shopping strip, landmark, or civic institution that might put us on the map.

Here you’ll find hundreds of houses with birds of paradise plants in the front garden, older houses making room for newer ones, kids up and down the street first on trikes, then bikes, e-bikes and then cars. Perhaps like many other parts of Melbourne, the old wooden bungalows on huge blocks of land are making way for newer, bigger, shinier developments. Meanwhile, real estate marketing often describes us as one of Melbourne’s “best little secrets”.

We are a content bunch here by the beach. In my experience, we don’t have any wish to sell up and move somewhere else that’s more upmarket, closer to the city or down on the peninsula.

I came here to raise a family in 2010, and like so many others have no plans to leave. I didn’t want to come here when we first landed in Melbourne from Adelaide – I wanted to live further up the line, closer to the city – but of all the arguments my wife and I have had I am glad she won that one. These days I’m quite proud to describe myself as a Bonbeach local.

Despite its anonymity, Bonbeach has had a brief moment in popular culture, thanks to Kath & Kim. Bonbeach train station had a starring role in the 2007 episode in which “hunk of spunk” Kel Knight (Glenn Robbins) got into a dust-up with Eric Bana over the opening of a coffee cart. In the years since, our train station has been completely rebuilt as part of level crossing works. It’s peculiar how quickly we have forgotten what a nightmare it was to get across the level crossings.

Bonbeach is located on part of the Carrum swamp that once extended from Mordialloc to Frankston. It was a food source for the Bunurong people, but as white settlement expanded, the area was peppered with beach shacks, farms and then suburbs. Landholders were flooded out time and time again, even after the Patterson River – our southern border with Carrum – was constructed to drain the swamp. Remnants of the wetlands survive.

The name Bonbeach came a century ago. A new station was planned for Bondi Road to fill a gap between Chelsea and Carrum on the Frankston line. But the name Bondi was junked by the postmaster general, saying it would cause confusion with Sydney’s famous beachside suburb. A plebiscite was held in 1926 to choose a new name, and the abbreviation of Bon Beach comfortably defeated Bonheath, Baybeach, Beachside and Bonhealth. Two words were too much so we became Bonbeach.

A few generations ago Bonbeach had a reputation, among the few who knew of it, as a rough area full of bogans. But when I talk to people who lived here they remember a quiet, working-class family-oriented suburb, with dirt tracks for roads and blackberry bushes all the way to the train station. The blackberry bushes are gone but we remain a family suburb. The primary school is thriving, although the high school closed in 1991 and the land was sold to meet the demand for housing.

A private golf course makes up about a quarter of the suburb and the site of its clubhouse is rumoured to have once been a secret hospital for unwed mothers on the edge of Melbourne.

The legend goes back to the beginning of the 20th century when the land was owned by a Dr Samuel Peacock, who ran a private hospital in East Melbourne. Dr Peacock was a central figure in a sensational murder mystery in 1911 when Mary Davies, 27, of South Melbourne disappeared.

Acting on information that Dr Peacock, 71, was involved, police searched the Peacock Estate for Mary’s body. Aboriginal trackers were brought in and some of Mary’s clothes were salvaged from ashes near an iron hut used by Dr Peacock, and it was later revealed in court that she had been pregnant and a patient at his city hospital. Peacock was initially found guilty of the murder, but the conviction was later quashed.

Another little-known claim to fame for our community is that in 1938 our council was possibly the first in Victoria to allow topless bathing for men, as the trend swept the nation. Though, the 6-2 vote did still require men to wear a kind of skirt over their trunks to protect their modesty.

Today, Bonbeach has a handful of cafes, a golf course, the river, and sporting clubs that regularly punch above their weight. And of course, the beach. Outside of summer, you’ll find a scattering of walkers, joggers and dog walkers, even the occasional winter swimming enthusiast, but for the most part, it’s a quiet peaceful place to be.

The people who live here are my people. If my kid gets hurt playing sport while I am away, I am guaranteed that neighbours will help him out. My next-door neighbour remembers all our birthdays and leaves a card in the letterbox for each one, plus for Christmas and Easter. If my dog gets out and runs away, someone who lives a block away will bring him home.