Look to your right to spot a large, rectangular building featuring a smooth, pale concrete base and a striking upper facade wrapped entirely in tall, vertical metal sunscreens. For decades, this was the Chan Building, a place that perfectly captures the restless, ever-changing spirit of this resilient city.
Originally known simply as Block Eight, it was built in the late nineteen sixties to house government workers. But a decade later, it was given a much warmer name in honor of an extraordinary man named Harry Chan. Born Hen Fook right here in nineteen eighteen to a Hong Kong tailor, Harry grew up to build a highly successful grocery business and invest smartly in real estate after World War Two. He eventually became a millionaire, an absolute fortune that would equal many millions of dollars today. But Harry was beloved not for his wealth, but for his heart. Locals used to joke that he knew the names of almost every single resident in town, and even the names of their pets.
Harry Chan's political rise was a powerful testament to the hidden diversity and quiet rebellion of this community. During an era when the White Australia policy, a set of strict historical laws aimed at excluding non-European immigrants, still cast a heavy shadow over the nation, this town embraced him. Sitting as an independent, he simultaneously held the two highest elected offices in the territory, serving as both the Mayor and the first elected President of the Legislative Council until his sudden passing at age fifty-one.
The building that bore his name saw just as many lives, constantly adapting to the needs of the people. Over the years, it transformed from government offices to a temporary parliament space. Later, its raw, utilitarian structure became a contemporary art space, where local creators used the building's brutalist architecture, a style defined by its harsh, exposed concrete walls, as a rugged backdrop for exhibitions about the harsh local landscape.
There were incredibly grand plans to turn the site into a cathedral-like museum, but after costs spiraled out of control, the government completely shelved the idea. In true frontier fashion, the city simply tore the building down in twenty twenty to start fresh. In an impressive feat of recycling, the massive concrete block was crushed and reused to pave local roads, while the site was reborn as a lush, open green space known as the Chan Lawns where the community now gathers for lively festivals.
Harry Chan’s story is a beautiful example of how this town came together to support one of their own, defying the prejudices of the time. But the roots of this city were not always so harmonious. As we make the seven-minute walk to our next stop, Fort Hill, we will leave behind Chan’s peaceful, barrier-breaking rise to uncover the much more turbulent and violent early days of this settlement.
