To spot La Scala, just look for the striking maroon and cream three-storey timber building perched right on the corner, its tall hipped terracotta roof peeking out above a chunky brick and concrete retaining wall at the edge of Brunswick Street.
Now, as you’re standing right here, picture yourself transported back to the year 1915-a time when Brisbane’s streets echoed with the clip-clop of horses, adventurous doctors in starched collars, and elegant timber homes like this were cropping up in the Valley. In those days, this grand house was known as Craig Athol, and its first master was Dr. Thomas Henry Reeve Mathewson. Imagine Dr. Mathewson, coat tails flapping, bustling in from the street to greet anxious patients at the door. Here, on the ground floor, his waiting room might have been filled with the faint scent of eucalyptus and the low murmur of patients sharing tales of daily life-and perhaps slightly exaggerating a cough for sympathy. Above, like the cherry on a rather elaborate cake, he kept his private residence, watching rain sweep over Brunswick Street from big windows while the world of medicine buzzed below his feet.
But time, much like a staircase, moves everyone upward and onward. Almost a decade later, in 1923, Dr. Mathewson packed up his medical kit and moved his practice to Wickham Terrace, yet he couldn’t quite give up his beloved home. He continued to live here, renting out his old consulting rooms below to another doctor. The building’s timber walls soon became familiar with a parade of medical professionals. It was as if the house itself wore a stethoscope, always listening to the heartbeat of the Valley and its people.
Then came the 1970s-a time for bellbottoms, bold colors, and, if you were this house, a brand-new chapter. Out went the doctors, and in came a flurry of tenants as the building was split into flats. Unfortunately, the original stables-once filled with the soft whickers of horses-were knocked down, but the house itself stubbornly clung to its corner, though no doubt side-eyeing the passing modern cars with as much disapproval as a house can muster.
But every building deserves a fairy godparent, and in 1980, La Scala found one. Enter Robert Riddel, a Brisbane architect with a passion for lost beauty and a flair for dramatic names. He swept in and restored the home, rechristening it “La Scala”-a name which might make you think of grand Italian theatres and operatic drama, and honestly, this building’s had its share. Riddel expanded the ground floor to give his architectural practice a home, so just picture the creative hum as draftsmen and designers mulled over blueprints from behind those timber walls. By the 1990s, the ground floor was split into three separate offices-each one with its own stories, ambitions, and perhaps the odd grumpy tenant arguing over the tea kettle.
Now, look up. The terracotta tile awnings, the ornate timber verandahs, the jumble of louvred, casement, and sliding windows-each odd angle fits together like a jigsaw puzzle made by a whimsical architect after one too many cups of tea. Step closer and you’ll see the building is clad in weatherboards, perched up on timber stumps, while the batten screens run along the edge. Out back, the house even sits high up, as if on tiptoes, to watch the world go by.
La Scala’s beauty isn’t just skin-deep. If you could tiptoe inside, you’d be greeted by rooms with extravagant plaster ceilings-each with its own unique pattern, some decorated with fruit borders that wouldn’t look out of place in a French patisserie. The internal walls are simple vertical boards, but the foyer would dazzle you with colorful leadlight in every door and window, spilling gems of colored sunlight across the hall. The stair balustrade, with its tulip motifs, would invite you up toward those top floors-just careful not to trip with excitement.
Why is La Scala so famous, you ask? It’s a star pupil in Brisbane’s architectural schoolbooks, a showcase of creativity from Thomas Ramsay Hall, a name whispered by heritage buffs in tones of awe. With its grand roofdeck for outdoor living (long before rooftops were cool), its experimental shape, and its bright blend of styles, La Scala is more than a house-it’s a patchwork of history, an artistic rebellion, and, just maybe, the Valley’s greatest multitasker.
So next time you pass by this corner and spot this flamboyant building holding court over Brunswick Street, know that you’re looking at more than timber and tiles. You’re looking at a home that’s seen over a century of stories, medicine, imagination, and a touch of theatrical flair-a true Valley character.
