Josh Spencer

Having read recently some books about 'old Parktown, I am prompted to set down some further impressions and emotions about my five year tenure in that miracle of a suburb, in five different houses. At the time this was predicated by the need for a cheap home for myself, lover and infant son along with a changing circle of friends and a desire for a large house that allowed me to operate a photographic, art studio and darkroom. The fact that Parktown was within walking distance from the city centre and a stone’s throw from shops in Hillbrow made it an ideal choice for impoverished pedestrians and artists keen to borrow some faded grandeur.

My occupancy, initially, of part of a nameless and bland mansion at 5 St David's Place was brief. The house, impressively large, was fronted by a splendid wall and faced directly east, looking out over Parktown's famous oval, then in 1968 more a meadow than a cricket ground.

5 St David's Place

I then found rooms at 'Friedaura', a far larger and perhaps odder mansion situated on the corner of Victoria and St Andrews. It's chief glory was its gates, elaborate wrought and cast iron in flagrant Art Nouveau. These were hung on equally impressive stone gate posts topped with large stone balls, or they...

In late 1971, Robbie Hinds gave up his lease on 5 St David's Place Parktown. His commercial film company had not been a success so I, as his Assistant, Art Director, Driver, Stills Photographer and Caretaker was faced with finding a new home for my myself, my wife and infant son. Another 'orphan of this storm' was Gordon le Sueur who had a room in the annex behind 5 St David's (previously a boarding house). My great friend Arthur Cantrell came to our rescue. He was an old friend of Geoff Maitland, a distinctly eccentric Englishman, who had been renting No 12 Queens Road or 'Wynnstay' but was vacating soon. I hurried up the hill to speak to Geoff Maitland about taking over his lease.

Wynnstay was designed in 1913 by the architect Percival Hill Mitchelson (The Heritage Portal)

Geoff Maitland had been eking out an existence as an aerial photographer, perhaps something he had done in the war, when he probably met Arthur Cantrell. He proudly showed me his darkroom in a converted pantry off the passage to the kitchen. It was rather makeshift and I noticed there were no safelights rigged above his developing trays. Apparently Geoff was in ignorance of safelights and had been processing his prints purely by guesswork in total darkness! I'm sure he had other harmless...