Southbank wiped out most of its past, but things are looking up

The suburb’s Yarra end could well be called CBD South, given its entertainment precinct and office towers. The cafes, restaurants, bars and river and city skyline views along Southbank Promenade keep the visitors flocking in, as does, not without critics and controversy, the Crown casino complex, which officially opened in 1997, a few years after the Southgate development brought shopping, dining, and modern office towers to a spot near Princes Bridge.

It’s a safe bet that gasps and screams will be heard if you wander past Crown when those rectangular gas towers along the riverfront embark on their nightly mission of startling the unsuspecting by shooting huge fireballs skywards. Other suburbs can’t compete. Take that, Toorak and Brighton!

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It was in the mid-1980s that the state government designated Southbank an area for urban redevelopment, and growth gained pace in the ’90s. Part of the traditional lands of the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung people, the area had largely been home to industries and warehouses since the 19th century. Where did that giant waterslide mentioned earlier fit in? It was part of an entertainment tradition down near the river going back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Long-gone circuses, a dance hall and an ice-skating rink were also part of the mix.

Although much that was demolished during recent decades in the rush to commercial and residential modernity hasn’t been missed, let us pause to lament the loss of a truly bright (and sweet) spot in Southbank’s past: a 30-metre by 12-metre neon sign that belonged to the also now-departed Allen’s lolly factory across the river from Flinders Street Station.

A landmark from the mid-1950s until its demise in 1987, the sign became more vibrant over the years. Abbotsford may still have the Skipping Girl Vinegar sign, but, alas, elsewhere the animated neon spectacle of throat lozenges falling out of an Anticol packet, a giant wrapped lolly and a burst of sparkles is no more.

There are an estimated 27,300 Southbanktonians (Southbankanistas?) these days, whereas the 2011 census put the population at a mere 11,235. The area has been accused over the years of lacking liveability. Yes, the traffic (trucks included) is heavy on City Road. And with so many high-rises, complaints about ground-level sterility in some pockets have merit. Some apartment towers are more liveable and easier on the eye than others. Some creak too much when the wind blows.

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Some potential development sites are languishing. The much-troubled $2.7 billion STH BNK project on the site of a former BMW showroom was touted as including Australia’s tallest tower. It’s been ground-bound for years and its fate is uncertain.

At its heart, Southbank is a work in progress. We now have a linear park where native grassland grows. I’m not sure what to make of a distinctive playground nearby that features boulders on wheels, but a colleague who has let children loose there reckons it’s not as dangerous as it looks.

Just because we could do with another major art gallery, the Fox: NGV Contemporary is under construction. Also as part of the $1.7 billion Arts Precinct transformation, an 18,000-square-metre garden, Laak Boorndap, is due to open in 2028.

The 2021 census found 38 per cent of Southbank households don’t own a car, compared with 8 per cent for Melbourne as a whole. I’m in the no-car camp and do not take for granted my inner-city public transport privilege, or the fact that if I keep putting one foot in front of the other in a leisurely manner, I can get to work in Docklands under my own steam in half an hour.

Southbank’s liveability factor soared when our very own full-sized supermarket arrived at the end of 2020. There were options in the CBD and South Melbourne beforehand, and smaller Southbank places for us non-car types to wheel shopping trolleys to, but now we have our own big Woolies, and not just any Woolies. It’s at the base of a high-rise and, in a nod to its multilevel locality, it has two storeys. So appropriate.

Joanne Anderson is The Age’s chief producer and author of Writely or Wrongly: An unstuffy guide to language stuff (Murdoch Books).