Doesn’t the name Micks Beach conjure up images of sun-kissed shores? It is located here in Melbourne. Micks Beach is a place where the city meets the sea.
Melbourne’s beaches were once escapes. They transformed from resorts to the suburbs we know today. Imagine back in 1842. The Liardet family’s Pier Hotel at Sandridge offered swimming. It offered fishing and sailing. It was an escape from the city’s heat. Their ferry to shipping and coach to Melbourne led to Station Pier. This attracted industry and housing during the Gold Rush.
St Kilda and Brighton became upper-class retreats in the 1840s. Hotels invited visitors to fish, sail, bathe and picnic. Small steamers reached Picnic Point and Mentone. Larger vessels visited Schnapper Point and Sorrento from the late 1850s to the 1930s. Fishing remained a popular activity from boats and piers.
Railways opened up suburban resorts. They reached St Kilda in 1857. Brighton Beach followed in 1862. Sandringham and Frankston via Mentone came in 1882. Trams connected Black Rock and Beaumaris. Williamstown and Altona have their own story to the west. The Williamstown rifle range and Point Cook air base cut them off. They linked to Footscray and Sunshine’s working-class suburbs. They shared social traits with the ‘Long Beach’ from Mordialloc to Carrum. Summer campers and suburbia occupied a narrow strip west of the rail and highway.
Railway electrification in the 1920s made all beaches accessible. It put them firmly on Melbourne’s leisure map. The vegetation and charm depicted by Heidelberg School artists were threatened. Kiosks and palms framed the water from South Melbourne and St Kilda. Motor cars brought paving and crowds. The pressure of numbers brought formality.
Quiet beaches offered sea-bathing without fear of danger. This was because fresh water was scarce. Horse-drawn bathing machines were used. Mrs Ford built palisades at St Kilda for ladies in 1853. Captain Kenney followed in 1854. Bathing naked required gender segregation. Rotation was used at beaches and public baths. St Kilda’s ‘Hot Sea Baths’ were gender-specific in 1881. Private bathing boxes for changing became common. You can still see them at Dendy Street in Brighton.
Warm water encouraged swimming at Micks Beach. Thousands cheered scantily clad competitors at Kenney’s summer carnivals around 1860. The poet ‘Orion’ Horne performed ‘fancy swimming’ naked. Most major competitions were held at sea baths until the 1930s. Private bathrooms made sea-bathing recreational. This encouraged fashionable costuming. It went from neck-to-knee to next-to-nothing. The young flouted Church attitudes and official segregation with open mixed bathing. They ignored Sunday restrictions. Public changing facilities were needed as the social revolution spread. St Kilda led again. Pavilions were built in 1928. Mixed bathing began at large new baths in 1931. Families were delighted. The Bay became their Mecca. Surf-lifesaving clubs were established to protect them. This was both in the relative safety of Port Phillip Bay beaches and at the back beaches. These faced Bass Strait on the Mornington Peninsula’s eastern flank.
Merry-go-rounds, kiosks and sideshows developed in the late 19th century at Micks Beach. These were mostly seasonal. Luna Park at St Kilda was different. It petered out during the 20th century in favor of restaurants. Most baths also disappeared. They were victims of in-ground pools. Yachting has flourished through clubs. Immense storm damage triggered breakwaters. These, like piers, have obstructed tidal movement. They caused beach silting and scouring. The 1956 Olympic sailing centered on Brighton.
The beach at the end of Kerferd Road South Melbourne is one of the first to crowd in hot weather. It was the first beach where going topless became normal. St Kilda beach has been a popular setting in literature. It has a central role in Melbourne’s culture. Hal Porter said St Kilda was ‘an Aussie Cannes with a better beach’.
Rubbish and water pollution drove people further afield since the 1960s. Those stuck in Melbourne on scorching days still flock to the beaches. They ‘slip, slop, slap’ to avoid cancers common among mid-century sunbathers. Power boats have become common. They require launching ramps and marinas. Many occupy high-rise pigeonholes at St Kilda. Jet skiers and sailboarders compete with bathers for inshore water. Change is reflected in the interest of postwar immigrants in shellfish. Population pressure has brought awareness and concern. It has raised concern about the fragility of coastal systems and the health of the Bay.
So, as you stand here at Micks Beach. Take a moment to appreciate its layered history. Think about its evolution from a tranquil resort to a beloved part of Melbourne.