In memory of George Clarke: urbanist, activist, inquirer.

Formidable in intellect, resolute in his opinions, and at times, explosive with activist zeal, George Clarke was a man whose presence was always larger than life.

With his trademark bellow, perfectly rounded vowels and thick mop of unruly grey hair, there was nothing ordinary about George. Minutes into any divergent encounter, once George began to rake an impatient hand through his mane, you could feel his exasperation rising. His impervious demeanour was immune to puncture, and resistance was futile.

In his latter years, he had taken to charging about the streets in a pair of It-Ain’t-Half-Hot-Mum-style khaki army shorts and Ugg boots. And, if I may say, he still had a great set of pins for a man approaching or, possibly by then in his seventies. Not that I notice that sort of thing.

Newcomers to the tiny alleys and streets of this tucked-away precinct may not have heard of George, a longstanding resident of Albion Avenue. Possibly you’ve seen his name mentioned in neighbourhood dispatches, or stopped to read the small commemorative plaque that sits in Selwyn Street Park, now dubbed George Clarke Park in his memory.

It simply reads: George Clarke, Urbanist. But George was much more than that.

One of Australia’s most influential urban town planners (and also an architect by profession), his contemporaries considered him a planner extraordinaire, describing him as one of the pivotal planning thinkers of the 70s. He had also worked as a consultant abroad on human settlements and cultural revival projects for, amongst others, the World Bank, the United Nations and AusAid. In 1972, he received Australian planning’s highest accolade, the Sidney Luker Memorial Medal.

George was passionate about preserving and improving Sydney’s built environment, and was unafraid to butt heads with political masters who, at that time, sought wholesale demolition of the city’s old buildings to make way for unfettered redevelopment – from the CBD and Circular Quay through to the planned annihilation of The Rocks. Plus ça change, some might say.

Best known as the driving force behind pioneering City Strategic Plans for the city centres of both Sydney and Adelaide, some of George’s battles to revive Sydney’s social amenity were lost. Against these odds, however, George did succeed in turning Martin Place into the pedestrian plaza it is today, even as powerful state politicians favoured razing the area for yet another car thoroughfare.

In Adelaide, urban commentator Chris Bowe described his 1974 Adelaide city plan as “the most innovative blueprint for the growth and management of an Australian city, and possibly the world, of its time”.

George Clarke’s contemporary, fellow architect and Sydney cartoonist, George Molnar, also railed against the uniformity, grey sameness, environmental degradation and myopic urban vision of the city’s political masters. Here’s Molnar’s take on their go-ahead for Clarke’s Martin Plaza.

George passed away in 2005, aged 73, after a relatively brief illness with leukaemia. But not before passionately and forcefully pushing to resurrect this long-ignored and threatened precinct.

Once an arterial thoroughfare and uncomfortably wedged in the boundaries of three local councils – Woollahra, City of Sydney and South Sydney – the area had been governed by the latter two in turns, and neglected by all. Cars roared through in all directions, taking shortcuts to the airport, to the city, the sports grounds and the eastern beaches.

Bounded by four major city roads, the tight confines of this historic precinct had descended into squalor, beset by inescapable plumes of carbon monoxide and throbbing to dysentery green and Acapulco gold muscle cars, a hallmark of 70s cheap gasoline culture.

Once George moved into his small but elegant Albion Avenue terrace home, all that changed. Angered by the area’s neglect, he dedicated much of his spare time to its improvement.

Back in the late 70s, he galvanised the whole community, fighting for and eventually succeeding in closing Little Selwyn and Little Napier Street to cars. They are now considered amongst Sydney’s cutest and most picturesque pedestrian alleys. The precinct’s defining canopy of giant street trees was also planted around this time. His campaigning also saw the partial closure of both Selwyn and Napier Street proper, with small pocket parks created to seal off former road thoroughfares.

George Clarke Park

Later, in the mid 90s, George’s efforts saw the remaining streets made one-way, coupled with the creation of landscaped islands that now dot the area’s pedestrian corners.

Just as wetland regeneration brings back with it long-departed wildlife, the area’s revived, pedestrian-friendly streets brought back families, artists and city dwellers, along with tree-hugging households of ringtail and brush possums and a multitude of native birds. Even the bats returned, having earlier deemed the area too barren and over-trafficked for comfort.

Equipped with a ferocious tenacity and masterful manoeuvring honed in his professional clashes with state and local government, George also led the charge against unsympathetic development of the new UNSW CoFA campus, which had taken over the Paddington site in the late 80s.

He was appalled at the university’s refusal to comply with consent conditions imposed by the then ruling South Sydney Council, conditions designed to protect his hard-won residential amenity. He was equally infuriated with the Council’s lack of pluck in enforcing them. Much of his concern centred on CoFA’s failure to orient and access the campus from the public Oxford Street and Greens Road, effectively hijacking its residential rear edges. Disappointingly, it’s a needless tussle locals are still wrestling with to this day.

Many was the time George would stand amongst the assembled throng at community-council gatherings, bellowing well-rounded critiques and adeptly plucking perfectly-chosen adjuncts from the air in retort to interruptions. When he was done, he would often storm dramatically from the floor – and the building. It was quite some sight to behold.

At times his frustration would boil over, perhaps a man with too much vision thwarted by those who had none.

Speaking at the unveiling of George Clarke Park’s commemorative plaque in 2007, Will Mrongovius, one of George’s ‘lieutenants’ and now convenor of the precinct’s Community Group, had this to say:

“George loved life and he loved living in our area. He had immense skills and energy. At times it was daunting and frightening, but he was generous with his time and knowledge, unselfish, and a great teacher. He taught us how to work with Councils. With his attention to detail, energy, and boundless enthusiasm to improve local amenity, he not only helped prevent unsympathetic development, but he was active in improving our living conditions.”

And this from Lord Mayor, Clover Moore:

“George was a giant - in his personality as much as his qualities as a planner. Indeed, it’s hard to imagine that his planning dreams could have been envisaged let alone achieved by a less forceful personality... George with his typical panache once claimed that trying to plan anything in the City of Sydney was a foolhardy activity and over time it would lead inevitably to psychosis.

"...The area surrounding this street closure has become a place with a unique ambience. It is lined with high and and sweeping foliage of Sydney Figs. It contains closely spaced and human scale Victorian style terrace houses, with the odd corner shop where a diverse population drop in for a coffee and a chat. It is notable for the absence of intrusive cars, and trafffic noise. It is a place which is the result of George’s work as much as anyone else."

George’s indomitable spirit saw him in constant battle with CoFA’s ruling bureaucrats, a battle he fought to the very end. He had offered to create an entire masterplan for the campus – pro bono – but his offer was rebuffed and his abilities dismissed, some would say even disparaged.

We can only wonder how much better off both CoFA and residents would have been had George’s generous offer been accepted, and his talents, passion, and expertise put to good use.

It is ironic that the UNSW Faculty of the Built Environment has a prestigious award in his honour – The City of Sydney George Clarke Memorial Prize – for best performance in social planning and qualitative planning method.

On hearing of the seriousness of George’s illness, the College’s Dean dispatched a kind and compassionate handwritten note. Upon receipt, George summoned Will Mrongovius to his bedside, and bade him write this pithy reply.

“Too little, too late”, it simply read.

George Clarke. Ever the bristling and wild urban warrior to the end.