On the north side of Currie Street, about thirty yards east of Rosina Street, there once stood a collection of wooden structures. comprising the “Southern Cross” Hotel. On August 1. 1837, Philip Lee moved into Pavilion Cottage, just erected on acre 113 Currie Street, where his “temporary wine and coffee house” was conducted pending the completion of more suitable headquarters adjoining. Probably the latter place was ready for occupation by the end of 1837, as in January of the following year, Bee recorded his appreciation of support afforded him since the opening of the “Southern Cross.”

K. W. Allen took over the establishment later in 1838, which by that time seems to have become a busy coaching depot. “The Defiance,” a “commodious vehicle,” plied between the hotel and the Port, carrying mails and passengers. A mail cart, also conveying passengers. ran to and from Holdfast Bay “to suit the convenience of shipping at anchor there.” and other vehicles also operated. The courtyard of the “Southern Cross" appears to have offered scope for the exercise of practical jokes, and in referring to the locality in his “Karly Experiences,” Mr. J. W. Bull. wrote:

“Some considerable gatherings, in proportion to the number of the inhabitants then in the city, used to occur in the neighbourhood of the Gilles Arcade. Mr. Solomon there had his first wooden store, and there were wooden cottages occupied as offices by the Treasurer, the Resident Magistrate, and one was the dwelling of Judge Jickling. On the other side of Currie Street was the Southern Cross Hotel— a wooden structure brought out in frame from London—kept by F. Allen, where generally in a morning would be seen a number of people. It was a sort of exchange or place of meeting, and when no Court or other business occupied the time or thoughts of those present, idlers would indulge in practical jokes. On one occasion, after a heavy downpour of rain, which had left a number of ponds in various directions in the city, and when a large company had gathered for shelter and for refreshment, little dapper K-, then clerk of the Local Court, civil side, which was not sitting that day. walked in, attired most suitably to take a direct course in any bearing across the city. No streets were then formed or channels to carry off surface water. K-, on entering, exhibited with pride his nether limbs encased in a brand-new pair of, for him, exceptionally long patent-leather boots, saying, ‘There, I can defy the deepest pond of water within the city.' A wag offered to bet him he would point out a pond through which he would not be able to cross without getting out of his depth. The bet was made. Kain had ceased to fall, and so the company followed the betting parties. K- was to walk in a straight course from where he was placed by his opponent, to him, on a signal he would give from the opposite side of the pond, which was known, us far as to the natural surface of the ground, not to have a greater depth of water than would reach K-*s knees. At the signal, off started K-, setting at defiance the advice of jokers to take off his coat, etc., etc., but to his sorrow, on reaching about half-way across the temporary pond, he suddenly popped out of sight, but was soon out on the other side of a sawpit, the existence of which he was not aware, and of course he had an uproarious laugh against him; and on a return of the amused company to host Allen's, he had the consolation of partaking of refreshment ordered by the winner of his money, the landlord, as usual on such occasions, being the chief winner.”

Mr. James C. Hawker, in his reminiscences, mentioned that "the hotel was used as an exchange by business men generally during the morning, the overlanders especially transacting their sales of stock there; and it being convenient to the Court. the legal profession patronised it also, and to kill time and afford amusement many practical jokes were played. Fred Allen was the landlord’s name, and he was very popular. His custom was to make out weekly bills, and when they were unpaid at the end of a week, past? the next week on to the end of the former. A canny Scotchman, who had brought a cargo of sheep from Van Diemen's Land to sell on behalf of some breeders in that colony, was detained much longer in winding up his business than he had expected, and his bill gradually increased until it ran into months. Mr. Allen began to have a fear that it might eventually reach beyond the limits of his property, it having already extended from the mantelpiece of the dining room to some distance outside the front door. Allen, therefore, rather strongly called Sandy’s attention to the fact, and suggested payment of part of the account. The latter disputed some of the items, and by agreement of both parties a select committee was appointed to decide the matter. To assist their deliberations on so weighty an affair. the landlord provided a champagne luncheon, Sandy duly taking his share. The decision of the committee was that the bill should be paid for at a certain amount per foot measurement, all cigars charged to be deducted. Sandy agreed to this, and in the presence of many onlookers he measured the bill, and with a look of horror exclaimed: ‘Ma conscience! It’s twenty-twa pund mair than the bill itsel'.

The last year for which a licence was granted the "Southern Cross" was that for 1842.


Adelaide's Early Inns and Taverns
J. McLellan
1941