Glenelg is the sandy cradle of South Australia, where the city fathers took their first wobbly steps before deciding they needed something better up the river in Adelaide. Well, you know, until they made their millions and decided to come back to this seaside suburb to build their immense weekend cottages—palatial homes that screamed “new money” with all the subtlety of a bullhorn at the ballet.
Welcome to a tour of the Mansions of Glenelg. The ones that still exist, anyway.
Seafield Tower (1866): First up is this grandiose architectural marvel that looks like they decided halfway through that they really wanted something else. This beauty was the first mansion to pop up on the Esplanade, setting the bar for its future neighbors—the architectural influencer of its day. Sir Henry Ayers and Sir Thomas Elder, the dynamic duo of the 19th century, decided to share the house. Each had their own staircase because, apparently, sharing a staircase was where they drew the line. But no, seriously, Ayers was married. To a woman. I swear.
The Olives (1867): The Olives is a mansion so grand it needs its own postcode. Built by Edmund Wright for his brother Edward, this 18-room behemoth was a testament to what happens when brotherly love is translated into bricks and mortar. Awww...how do I get my brother to do that for me? With its coach house, stable, and enough land to host Bonnaroo, the house has been subjected over the years to some humiliating “redesigns.” But the current owners have restored it to its former glory. I hear. They wouldn’t let me in based on my admittedly weak, “Is Betty here? Betty asked me to stop by” opening line.
Glenara (1873): If Glenara were a person, he or she would 100% be the one at the party with the best stories and the tallest hat, assuming the party was in 1873. Built for William Hill (Bill Hill!), this Italianate jewel doesn't just whisper history, it sings it from the slight rise on which it sits right next to the beach. Designed by Thomas English, who apparently never met a room he didn't want to zhuzh up a little. The widow's walk offers a view that could steal your breath away. Or, again, so I’m told.
Hindmarsh House (1874): This pair of Victorian terraces, built by Charles Farr, was once a single-family home, a political hub, and even a private hotel—adapting to the ebb and flow of Glenelg's societal tides. It's a building that has worn many hats, figuratively speaking, its rooms echoing with the whispers of the past, from philanthropists to premiers ("state governors" in Australesian).
Alexandra Terrace (1878): Alexandra Terrace, designed by Thomas English, is the kind of place where you expect to bump into Mr. Darcy on his way to buy a new suit for his date later with Elizabeth. Alexander Cunningham, a man whose life sounds like the plot of a Victorian novel (born in the Tower of London, migrated to Australia, and opened a fancy goods store) lived here. The terraces come complete with servants’ basements and drawing rooms fit for royalty. Alexandra Terrace stands as the last vestige of Moseley Street's opulent past, a beacon of grandeur in a world that's often too quick to forget the beauty of yesteryears.
Albert Hall (1878): Albert Hall, not to be confused with its more famous London counterpart, was the epitome of architectural flamboyance when it was built. Initially a mansion that probably required a map to navigate, it transformed over the years from a high-society hub to a hostel for backpackers and then back to a single-family home. This place is like the phoenix, repeatedly rising from the ashes, each time with more pizzazz than the last.
Restormel (1881): Built for accountant Joshua Gurr—who was a very successful accountant, clearly—Restormel is a stately reminder of the Victorian era's love affair with respectability and meticulous bookkeeping. Gurr lived to see 92, so I guess carefully tracking your budget may not only net you a great house but a good, long life, too. But I’m not going to risk it.
Colonna (1881): Colonna is like a whispered secret on a side street in Glenelg. Built for the Reverend James and Clara Jane Howie, this architectural beauty is a testament to family, faith, and the lasting resilience of bluestone. With its Romanesque arched verandah, Colonna is like the sophisticated elder of Glenelg, peering through spectacles at the younger houses scampering about its feet. Amazingly, the house has been owned by the same family for more than a century. Nice.
Seawall Apartments (1882): John Warren Bakewell (not a dessert) planted his family here in 1882. Fifty years later, the building became a local preparatory school with two classrooms (Glenelg wasn't what you would call a large town, really). It’s been derelict since developers began demolition in 2022 to build high-rise condos but were stopped almost immediately by community uproar. They’re still fighting over it, even though the builders have “compromised,” proposing to shrink their original design from 13 floors to 10.
Waterworth (1885): Built originally for Thomas Reid and later becoming the domain of Sarah and Henry Sparks, Waterworth morphed from a quaint cottage to a sprawling 11-room residence. Henry, a jack-of-all-trades, dabbled in building stadiums and politics from here. Legend has it he personally crafted Adelaide’s Mayoral Chair from wood preserved from the HMS Buffalo—the ship that brought over South Australia’s first governor. Waterworth has been used as apartments, a nursing home, and now, three private condos.
Stormont (1886): Oooh…this one’s a good one. It was built for Simon Barnard, a man with opulent tastes and, apparently, a taste for high-stakes gambling. Too bad he wasn’t very good at either. One night—after heavy drinking, I can only assume—Barnard bet his beloved home on a poker hand in a game against William Pile, the man who owned Albert Hall just two doors along the boardwalk. No surprise, Barnard lost everything, and Pile suddenly had two seaside homes.
Soward's Villa (1887): The brainchild of George Klewitz Soward, this house was a real statement piece, screaming, "Look at me, I'm fabulous!" George, who was also the mayor at one point, and his life partner, Emma Beare, created not just a home but a legacy. The transom above the door bears the Beare family motto, 'Bear and Forbear.' So many bears. Be careful as you walk past.
St John's Row Terraces (1887): This row of Italianate terraces oozes 1880s charm like a meticulously twirled mustache. These four terraces were designed by Joseph English, son of
renowned colonial architect Thomas. Clearly, good design ran in the family. Among the terraces’ residents was Lionel Logue, speech therapist to Colin Firth King George VI. To be fair,
though, Logue lived here for, like, three years when he was barely walking. But Glenelg is still talking about him.
Partridge House (1899): Sadly, Partridge House was not the home of the Partridge Family as I had hoped. Oh well. It is a beautiful house, of the sort that makes you wonder if maybe the architects were just a tidge too ambitious. With 18 rooms and a collection of outhouses, Partridge House is a monument to excess done right. The house narrowly escaped the clutches of developers thanks to intervention by the Glenelg Town Council. Today, as with many big houses and historic buildings that have outlived their original purpose, it’s a community center and event space! How many event spaces does one town need, really?
Glenwood Mansions (1904): The Glenwood Mansions, formerly home to hometown hero Jimmy Melrose, don’t exist anymore. Instead, we’ve got Glenelg’s first high-rise condos. Yawn. Why do I have it here, you ask? Mostly so I can tell you about Jimmy! In the glamorous mid-1930s, no one matched 19-year-old Jimmy’s charisma. Not in Glenelg, anyway. He set several world aviation records, notably flying solo around Australia in record time. Sadly, when he was just 22, Jimmy died flying from Melbourne to Darwin when his Heston Phoenix broke apart in turbulent conditions. This is where he grew up!
Raleigh Flats (1919): Raleigh Flats sprang from the charitable heart—and considerable estate—of Georgina Dowling, standing as a monument to her great taste and even better intentions. You half expect to bump into Gatsby on the boardwalk in front. Solomon Saunders, the man who turned this patch of land into an Art Deco dream, clearly had a flair for the dramatic and geometric. The Raleigh Flats are the cool uncle of Glenelg's Victorian and Georgian architecture—stylish and always ready for a party.
Kilwinning Flats (1923): Now known as Majestic Mansions, Kilwinning Flats are something of an architectural smoothie, blending Edwardian elegance with a splash of the Roaring Twenties. Designed by the dynamic duo of English & Soward for H.M. Player, it's an architectural experiment. And not an altogether successful one.
Shoreham Apartments (1938): Last but not least, the Shoreham Apartments—Glenelg's very own slice of the Roaring Twenties, stuck in a time warp, cocktail in hand. Born out of Mrs. E. Kiernan's fond memories of the Washington D.C. hotel, Shoreham is a monument to holiday nostalgia and an early example of brand loyalty. But as a sucker for all things Art Deco, I love it.
So there you have it—proof that sometimes, when you find yourself in a very small town for a couple of weeks, you can make your own fun. Like walking around and taking surreptitious photos of rich people's houses without getting reported to the local constabulary. Adventure!
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