Albion Street Children’s Court

From Harsh Punishments to a Haunted Legacy, the history of the Albion Street Children’s Court is eye-opening.

Sydney Metropolitan Boys Shelter 1913

Picture Surry Hills in the early 1900s: a rough-and-tumble neighborhood of cramped terraces and smoky pubs. Back then, kids who broke the law faced a grim fate. As young as seven, they could be hauled into adult courts, facing juries for petty thefts like nicking bread. Punishment was brutal — jail alongside hardened crooks or a stint on training ships like the Vernon, where “reform” meant backbreaking work and little mercy. By the late 1800s, folks started worrying about these “larrikins” roaming the streets — kids neglected by poverty or tough homes, not just born bad. Something had to change.

Enter the Albion Street Children’s Court, opened on October 7, 1911, at the corner of Albion and Commonwealth Streets. Designed by Walter Liberty Vernon, the Government Architect, this red-brick beauty with its fancy Ionic columns was a game-changer. It sprang from the Neglected Children and Juvenile Offenders Act 1905, a law that said kids deserved protection, not just punishment. No more adult jails — now they’d get probation or a shot at reform. Vernon’s courthouse, with its quiet courtyards, aimed to shield young offenders from the bustle of Surry Hills’ gritty lanes, a far cry from the dank cells of old.

Attached was the Metropolitan Boys’ Shelter, a remand spot for lads awaiting hearings. Sir Charles K Mackellar, the bigwig behind the 1905 Act, hoped it’d be a bright, humane place. But inside, it was gloomy, especially the basement where the boys bunked. In its first six months, 553 passed through, petty thieves and truants from nearby streets. The idea was reform, but reality bit hard. Boys mingled too close to adults facing charges like neglect or abuse, and by the 1970s, whispers of brutality grew loud. The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse later dug into claims of a savage culture, dark stains on a noble plan.

Outside view of the boys shelter on Albion Street

Some of Sydney’s most notorious names did time there: Arthur “Neddy” Smith, the murderer; Raymond Denning, the escape artist; Russell “Mad Dog” Cox; and underworld kings George Freeman and Lennie McPherson. Before its 1983 closure, this shelter shaped a rogue’s gallery, just blocks from today’s hip cafes. The court shut down too, moving to Glebe as Surry Hills swapped slums for style. Focus shifted — less locking kids up, more figuring out why they went astray. Detention numbers crashed from 460 to 230 daily between 2012 and 2016, says Judge Peter Johnstone.

By 2016, a $38 million facelift brought the old court back to life, reopening in 2017 with slick courtrooms behind its classic facade. A quirky find popped up during renos — a 1911 boot stashed behind a fireplace, a builder’s old-school luck charm for the kids inside. The place even starred in Come In Spinner, its wartime chaos echoing down Commonwealth Street. Today, it’s a Surry Hills icon, blending past and present.

From the harsh old days of jailing tots to a modern court tackling root causes, Albion Street’s story spans a wild century. It started with hope — replacing punishment with care — but the shelter’s shadows, and the crooks it housed, remind us reform wasn’t always rosy. Still, its revival proves this corner of Surry Hills keeps evolving, a stone’s throw from your next coffee spot.