2.3 SUBURBAN HOUSING

Wave Four: The Problem Of New Estates

Most of Frankston was built without the benefit of such ideas. Increasingly through the twentieth century Frankston became a site for suburban commuters rather than holiday makers. In the first wave of this suburban building few controls were exercised over size, materials or services. By the end of the Second World War the problem of enforcing building by-laws had apparently overwhelmed the council's limited staff and councillors themselves often had little knowledge of the purpose or character of their by-laws. New buildings were being erected at such a rate that the council staff were unable to keep up with changes.

Frankston had sought inclusion within the Melbourne Metropolitan Board of Works area as some sort of avenue to control.1 Council followed with a deputation to the Ministry of Housing to seek an answer to the shortage of housing materials, which they claimed was the cause of so many inadequate houses around the town. This moved failed and the town had to deal with post-war growth "rapid and expansive, towards a permanent dwelling area rather than a holiday resort with its floating population."2 The small rude holiday houses were now let to permanent tenants. In some housing estates, especially around the Riviera Hotel new owners were living in shacks made up from the wooden crates used for shipping cars. The local paper reported that new arrivals, ninety per cent of whom were European immigrants, were living in packing case houses on the Seaford Heights Estate.3

24 Frankston Council's Moorooduc Quarry 1935 (still survives off Two Bays Road): Moorooduc stone was used both for road metal and architect designed chimneys [A.J. Veale collection held by Ian Armstrong].

In 1947 the shire building inspector claimed that ninety per cent of buildings put up since the war would not have been tolerated in the 1930s. Those not built of timber were inferior since poor bricks were almost always used.4 In 1950 the building inspector reported to council on inferior roofing material used in new subdivisions and informed councillors that he could not approve a cheap Indian roofing tile used on new subdivisions.5

Along with substandard housing it took several years before basic services were provided on several estates. Riviera Estate appeared to be the most primitive. For a long time the estate had no regular garbage service and as late as 1960, the rubbish truck was a 4 wheel drive because the roads were so rough.6 For several years residents argued with council about fire hazards, removal of ti-tree and access to Frankston via new bridges across the Kananook Creek.7 Poor roads frustrated new home-owners on several estates.

One resident wrote in exasperation to the council disgusted by the poor roadway and the sewage around her home

When are we going to have our road made - we are not asking for something for nothing as we all have to pay our share. This street is a disgrace - filthy household water runs out the low parts of the street and the noise of the frogs is not pleasant if you rise at 4:45 as we do ... l have been told for the last twenty years that the street will be made - which councillor is going to fight to make Addicott Street?8

On other estates council occasionally refused to take over roads from developers because they were, despite some improvements, still sub-standard. On Dobson's Mile Bridge Estate residents formed their own progress association contributing £2 p.a. to maintain roads with crushed rocks.9

Services often depended on state rather than local agencies. Mr Alan Croxford, head of the MMBW, came to Frankston in 1966 and told councillors they would have to wait for the completion of the South-East Trunk Sewer Scheme before they could get a sewerage system. Gas supplies came more speedily with the Gas and Fuel Corporation connecting homes from 1957 onwards.10 Other initial problems on new estates occurred with residents owning cars and driving onto properties without proper vehicle access, siting of new garages. More significantly for some residents in Seaford, there was the sudden discovery that their homes were more than seven foot below sea level and so technically valueless.11