The 50 Francis Street Photographer
totally grateful and proud to be able to share his passion for
photography and his life’s work with others. Every photograph
featured in this book has come from his archive.
My earliest memories of my grandfather are of him taking
me by the hand when I was two years of age and walking me
down the aisle of the church at my aunt Pauline’s wedding.
I was the flower girl but, being only two, I still needed to be
minded and Granddad was given the job. This is such a vivid
memory for me. I can remember him holding my hand tightly
and trying to entertain me so that I would keep quiet during the
ceremony. It had been my second birthday the day before, and
as soon as the church music began, I decided to join in with a
version of ‘Happy Birthday to Me’ – I imagine he was probably
a little irritated at having to head outside with me rather than
staying and taking as many pictures as he would have liked.
Growing up, he was always taking our picture. We would run
and hide from him, saying, ‘Oh, here’s Granddad again with
the camera. How many cars or people will he move out of the
way this time to make sure the picture is perfect?’ To this day,
this is a standing joke in my family: when someone steps up to
take a photograph, we say they are ‘doing a Granddad’. Little
did we realise then just how many photographs and wonderful
memories he would leave us and many, many other families.
As a child, the house at 50 Francis Street was a curious and
sometimes scary place. It had been the home of Archbishop John
Thomas Troy in 1787 and had big, heavy doors that led into the
back room and bedrooms and a huge wooden staircase that now
reminds me of the film Annie. This staircase went up two flights
with a landing in the middle and on the sides of the steps were
boxes and picture frames with my granddad’s work stored in
them. My mam and aunts recall being made to scrub these stairs