the mortuary train to Rookwood
Ochert, M. in Locality, Newsletter of the Centre for Community History, University of
New South Wales, Vol. 9 No. 2 1998 (Labour History edition)
excerpt one
My mother passed away in 1923. The service was held in our home in Bondi, Sydney.
Though I was only five years old, I recall the subsequent funeral procession. Some
bearded Rabbis walked ahead for a distance, followed by the hearse which was drawn by
four black horses, caparisoned in black. This carriage was polished black with silver
embellishments; its sides were glass; the four wheels were of large diameter, with narrow
rubber tyres. On the high, outside seat at the front were two attendants in black top hats,
tails and black cravats.
The close relatives followed in a four-wheeled, horse-drawn black landau. Then came a
number of hansom cabs, then sulkies and finally a long line of cars. This cortege moved
to the Regent Street Mortuary Railway Station, just beyond Central Station. From there
the coffin and the mourners proceeded by train to Rookwood Cemetery. In those days,
and for many years before, this method of transport to Rookwood was the usual
procedure.
In May 1927, I attended the funeral of my paternal grandfather. In this case, the service
was conducted at the funeral parlours of the Sydney Chevra Kadisha, after which we
mourners followed the hearse on foot, the short distance to the Mortuary Station, and so
to Rookwood.
The mortuary rail service has an interesting history which has largely been forgotten. In
the 1850s it became obvious that the cemeteries in Sydney's centre had to be closed, "due
to problems of space, land availability, costs and hygiene". In the early 1860s an area of
250 acres at Haslem's Creek was procured from its Jewish owner "for a major
Metropolitan cemetery, to be named 'The Necropolis', ie 'The City of the Dead'. (Indeed,
the living in many cities number far less than the deceased at The Necropolis.) It was
named 'The Rookwood Cemetery'. An unnamed railway historian has recorded that "the
residents of Haslem's Creek, upset at the thought of being associated with a burial
ground, changed the name of their village to 'Rookwood'. However, the spirit of the dead
chased the spirit of the living and the cemetery once more assumed the name of the
surrounding community in 1876". The village later became the Sydney suburb of
Lidcombe.
The new cemetery was nearly seventeen kilometres from the city. Since the roads were in
poor condition, it took the horse-drawn funerals a long time to travel to and from the new
cemetery. It was recorded that "one must set aside an entire day to attend a funeral".
Fortuitously, the Sydney to Parramatta railway passed nearby Rookwood, so a short spurline was constructed from Haslem's Creek station into the cemetery. This track was
handed over on November 22, 1864. From January 1, 1865, a regular morning and
afternoon funeral train ran from Sydney. It would stop at any station en-route, by prearrangement, to take on coffins and "friends".
ln order to dignify these rail-borne funerals, it was decided that more elaborate shelters
than the standard corrugated iron and timber platform shelters should be built. Designated
as "Necropolis Receiving Houses" they were erected on the platforms in the cemetery
and at Regent Street Station, (also known as the Sydney Central Mortuary Station). These
structures were tastefully designed in the Italian Gothic Ecclesiastic style by James
Barnett, FRIBA, Colonial Architect for New South Wales, and were constructed from
pale pink Pyrmont sandstone. Sculptured figures such as cherubs and floral designs were
set into the stonework; the wooden roof trusses were similarly adorned; the floors and the
platforms were paved with tiles from the Cumberland Pottery. In a quarry near Thirroul,
south of Sydney, the roof tiles were manufactured. The building at Regent Street was
topped by a spired bellcote (but had no bell) while that at Rookwood had a handsome
tower, complete with a bell. Notwithstanding their ecclesiastic design, neither building
was intended, or ever used, as a chapel or church. With an admirable display of
sensitivity, nothing specifically relating to any creed or denomination was displayed in
either building. As a result, the Receiving Houses were quite acceptable to all strands of
Christianity and to the several non-Christian faiths.
There were two types of hearse carriages: the smaller four-wheeled van carried up to ten
coffins on upper and lower shelves, each shelf opening out to the platform; the larger
eight-wheeled van had a capacity of thirty coffins. These hearse-vans were always
attached at the rear of the train.
On the front of the engine was a large sign reading "FUNERAL". As the train approached
each station, the driver tolled his bell and slowed down. Menfolk on the platform and
railway employees would doff their hats while the train passed.
At Regent Street, when funerals were to proceed, the coffins were loaded onto the shelves
in the hearse van, which stood waiting alongside the platform in the normal manner. The
"friends" would then take their seats in the carriages. At the Rookwood terminus,
however, the train stopped inside the building. There, the coffins were unloaded onto
wheeled hand-propelled litters…
The cemetery was increased in area on several occasions and the rail line was
progressively extended until it measured nearly five kilometres, and three more unloading
platforms were erected. However, elaborate stone shelters were not provided on these
three extra stations.
The rail facility saw its greatest utilisation around 1900. By the 1920s improved roads
and cars with pneumatic tyres allowed motorised funerals to take over and buses carried
the greater numbers of visitors on week-ends. By 1930, the service had ceased "except
for visitors on Sundays and Mothers' Days". It was revived during World War II, due to
the problems of petrol rationing, but was rarely used after and on April 3, 1948 the
service terminated. The rails were pulled up and the spur was recorded as "closed
December 29, 1948".
It remains to tell what became of those two fine buildings. When I saw them, during
World War II, they were grubby, neglected and black with train engine soot. Today, they
are as handsome as the day they went into service, thanks to high-pressure water jetting
and the attentions of dedicated restorers.
The one inside Rookwood Cemetery became an eyesore, especially after a grass fire
destroyed the beautiful wooden roof-trusses and the roof collapsed. Weeds, garbage and
human derelicts caused the cemetery authority to require the Rail Department to call
tenders for its removal. The only offer was from Reverend T. Buckle of All Saints'
Anglican Church of Ainslie, Canberra, who in 1957 successfully tendered £100 to
demolish and remove the sorry remains. Every stone was numbered by an architectural
craftsman who made sketches and took photos. In three months, the 782 tons of masonry
were in Canberra at a cost of £8,000.
Rebuilding the edifice in Canberra took over a year, at a cost of only £6,000.
Appropriately, it was consecrated on All Saints' Day, November 1, 1959. Some changes
were made during the reconstruction. The bell tower was moved from the right side to the
left and the two open ends, which previously allowed the train to pass right through the
building, were fitted with stained glass windows.
The building at Regent Street Station also experienced a long period of neglect and abuse
after its original function came to an end. It is recorded as having been used "for the
despatch of horses, dogs, poultry and parcels", as a tool-shed for the rail fettlers, and also
to have stood idle for years. Then it was renovated and the surrounds were landscaped to
house a proposed railway museum. Instead, it became a tea-room. Now it is hired out by
the Railway Department as a popular venue for weddings, receptions, and promotions —
particularly book launches. For dinners and for refreshments, two dining carriages are
parked at the station when required.
We should honour those who arranged for the restoration of these two fine buildings, so
that they have not fallen into the hands of the demolishers. They remain as memorials to
multitudes of Sydney's departed, who travelled to their final resting place along the
Mortuary Railway Train Line to Rookwood. "May their memory be a blessing".
excerpt two
My late father was, for twenty years, an honorary member of the Chevra Kadisha (the
Jewish Burial Society) and so attended many of the Jewish funerals in the period 1918 to
1938. He therefore saw a great deal of the above transport arrangements.
He told me that some faiths include a celebration called a "wake", immediately after a
funeral. The intention is "to give the departed a send-off he'll have to remember for a long
time". These good folk seem to believe that the late-departed is, in spirit, celebrating with
them. So, when a "wake" was to follow a burial, cases of beer and cartons of spirits were
loaded onto the train at the Regent Street platform for the grave-side farewell. Quantities
of more solid nourishment, including meat pies, saveloys, oysters, lobsters, crabs,
prawns, sausages, cheese and bread rolls, also went along to aid in absorbing the liquid
refreshments. Some of the mourners and friends may have arrived at the Receiving House
already fortified for the day's labours, while on the outward journey many a wake had a
premature commencement.
At the Rookwood platform after careful allocation of the correct coffin to the correct
funereal party, the foot processions would be formed. In front would go one of the
Sexton's men with all the paper-work necessary for this serious operation. He had to
guide the party and ensure that they reached the correct grave site, and witness that the
corpse was duly interred accordingly. With him went the Pastor, of the Rabbi, or the
Imam, or the Priest, or the Reverend, or whoever was the religious practitioner charged
with the spiritual procedures. Then, (let's not overlook him) the chief participant, in his
casket, on that wheeled liner pushed by friends and relatives. Now come the immediate
family, followed by friends and "others". But what about all that liquid and solid
nourishment? Well, there were always available some extra litters, so those supplies were
loaded thereon, and with an adequate escort of mature menfolk, they brought up the rear
with a display of commendable dignity. At the graveside, once the departed was lowered
to rest, the serious drinking and eating got under way. Nor were the grave-diggers
(waiting upon the signal to fill in the excavation) nor the Sexton's men, nor the Minister,
backward in participating. Somehow the principle developed that leftovers (chicken
bones, empty bottles and bottle-tops and the carapace of the various crustaceans) were
discarded into the grave, the idea being that the late lamented would get a good idea of
the extent of the valedictory commemoration.
The bell in the tower at Rookwood Station would be tolled as the train arrived for the
return journey. After about 45 minutes it would ring again to warn the folk in the
cemetery that they must hurry back, as the train was to leave in 15 minutes' time. When
five minutes remained, a more urgent, importunate clangour would peal out, while right
on the sixtieth minute the train whistle would be sounded and (the engine having been
turned around on a loop-line and attached to the other end of the train) the return journey
would commence. But not all the erstwhile passengers would be present, for
occasionally, some would be left in an alcoholic slumber, back in the burial ground. My
Dad said that sometimes the litters would be pressed into two-way service, carrying some
of the worse-for-wear mourners back to the platform.
Another aspect of this story relates to the aversion between folk of some disparate
denominations and the xenophobic hatred which can break out between people of
traditionally opposing national origins. So it was that on the platform waiting for the
return trip to commence, and aided by the emotions of the day's activity, not to mention
the demon drink, it could take little to ignite a fracas between opposing groups.
reproduced with permission of the author, Morris Ochert.