The black and white photos of old Geelong lend an indelible age to the town that belies the colour and vibrancy that was often the reality of the day.

Colourisation has become popular in recent years, breathing a certain life into many of the city’s ancient images. But in a manner similar to how some photographic film imbued an unnatural blue tone, and like movies from the ‘50s and ‘60s also injected a peculiar palette, colourisation, while fascinating, never seems quite right.

It also somewhat diminishes the elegance of the old daguerreotypes, the copper and glass plate shots, and gelatine silver prints. The old black and whites, meanwhile, maintain an artistic integrity that’s stylistic and documentary.

A smart little catalogue entitled Fifty-Five Photographic Views Geelong, published for bookseller Henry Franks between 1926 and 1928, portrays several dozen local sites with an eye for the discerning photographic angle and finish.

While the originals might well have achieved such, the printed result seems to lose a good bit. Often grainy and unclear. Even so, they remain an intriguing time-tunnel link to the world of a century ago – post-Great War, pre-Great Depression.

Essentially, the catalogue is aimed at luring travellers and lucre to town. And its written pre-requisites for tourism are a curious affair by today’s standards:

• Public utilities such as water, sewerage, tramways and electric lighting ‘that leave nothing to be desired’.
• Hotels, cafes and business premises ‘up-to-date in every respect’.
• Parks ‘well worth a visit’, viz Johnstone, Kardinia and Queens, plus the Botanical Gardens.
• Lookouts and district motor trips.
• Industries, schools and the Geelong port.

Not exactly what you’ll find on Tripadvisor these days but the pictures speak for themselves, albeit in their grainy monochrome.

They include the new Barwon Bridge, a bird’s-eye view of Geelong, the Gordon Institute of Technology, Corio Bay beachfront, the Art Gallery and Memorial Foyer, CBD scenes, bridges, churches, gardens, fire towers, schools, orphanages, farming scenes, even blue wrens and wattle.

All very idyllic, right down to the well-dressed reclining dude reading a book on the grassy slopes of Johnstone Park, presumably not reflecting on the swamp and animal carcass dump it served as in earlier days.

Motorcycles mix it with tin Lizzies, trams, horses, sulkies and bicycles. Verandahs were de rigueur on CBD stores, as were tall lightning rods, even if not obvious on the city’s fire station.

A singular feature of Geelong not apparent in the photographs is the smell. History’s not kind on the olfactory senses and the old factories of yesterday could be profoundly offensive. No shortage of horse manure, either, to be found along Moorabool and other streets. The ever-present backyard dunnies weren’t exactly beds of roses.

Of course, the old tourist boats chugging into Geelong weren’t arriving just for the scenery. They were escaping the infamous Melbourne, aka Smelbourne, considered the worst smelling city in the world at the time.

Which kind of explains why the public utilities might be deemed so attractive.

This article appeared in the Geelong Advertiser 19 June 2023.