From the windows of her upstairs office, Florence kept a keen eye on everything that was going on in the workspace below. She surveyed the scene as her employees arrived in the morning and left in the afternoon. She eyed them having lunch and watched her clock at the same time. She observed them mixing colours, printing paper and washing screens. And she watched when they chatted absentmindedly—but not for long. Leslie Walford, who dropped in to the studio-factory frequently, claimed Florence was extremely hard on her workers. As he remembered, she yelled orders at them like a school ma’am. ‘Hurry up you fool, stop dawdling. You are so slow this morning,’ she’d say. ‘Florence had an old fashioned attitude that she was the employer and therefore superior to her workers. She was a strong, determined and fiery character. Certainly, there were people around who were scared stiff of Florence Broadhurst,’ he said. Leslie claimed to have been present when one of her painters criticised the quality of her paper, complaining that it was difficult to work with. Her response was characteristically abrupt. ‘You incompetent fool, there is nothing wrong with it. Now, get back to work,’ she hollered.
Peter Leis agreed his former boss was a tyrant who ruled with an iron fist. He reckoned he was fired for drilling a bolt into the wrong hole. But as Sally explained:
The trick with Flo was that you just had to work out how to handle her, but many people just didn’t understand her at all. She would do things that you or I would never dream of doing. But, she had an amazing sense of humour—we laughed constantly—she was wicked and wonderful.
Sally’s brother Ben agreed:
Florence was certainly full on and she could be ruthless, there was no doubt about that, but she had a good heart. She liked to help people. It gave her a kick. If she didn’t respect someone, she gave them a hard time, it was all a bit of a front as far as I could see.
Either way, it was a managerial style that with certain employees didn’t earn Florence any popularity points and it is no surprise that she had a high turnover of staff. On 5 January 1974, one disgruntled employee boldly entered the factory wearing a stocking over his head. He confronted Florence at her desk in the upstairs showroom and stole her large black handbag that contained thirteen hundred dollars. When the intruder turned to leave, Florence tried to grab her handbag. They struggled. He struck her a number of times, knocked her to the ground and fractured her left ring finger. Interior designer Barry Little remembered Florence telling him and his wife, entertainer Jeannie Little, about the attack:
She said the attacker came in and tried to get the emerald rings off her fingers, but they were unsuccessful. But Florence said, ‘I’m going to get a gun for next time they come back.’
On 28 February 1974, Graham Patrick Limbrick was charged with the offence, but this charge was later quashed.
It was an attack that would set most women back on their heels, but it did not ruffle Florence’s feathers. Outwardly, she acted as brave, resilient and determined as ever. As Sally Fitzpatrick explained, there was not much that frightened Florence Broadhurst—it was usually the other way around:
I walked into the studio-factory one day for work and I could hear Florence yelling at the top of her lungs from her office upstairs, ‘Fuck you! Get the fuck out of here you fucking bastard! I don’t have the time to deal with this. What are you trying to do, send me fucking broke?’
The next thing Sally saw was the accountant who was running for his life down the stairs as Florence stood at the top and pelted him with rolls of wallpaper, accountkeeping books, chequebooks and anything she could get her hands on:
The poor guy, he was really timid and he was having all this abuse and all these objects hurled at him. I was just gobsmacked. But even more baffling was that he kept coming back for more. For three days in a row he came back to the studio-factory and he got exactly the same response from Florence: ‘Fuck you, you fucking bastard!’ she’d scream at him. So, he tried another approach and called her, but she just screamed abuse at him and slammed the phone down. I don’t know why the accountant wanted to continue working for Florence. It was an amazing scene to watch. Few people knew how completely over-the-top, eccentric and crazy she really was, but I just adored her.
Sally also recalled another similar incident that occurred in 1969, when a water main burst on Royalston Street and some workers turned up to fix it. According to Sally, the workers dug a hole in the road, put a barrier around the hole and set up a mish-mash of equipment directly in front of Florence Broadhurst Wallpapers.
They were based there for about two weeks and Florence was simply and utterly horrified. She thought it would be bad for business and she was not happy with the idea at all. Every morning the workers climbed down a ladder into the hole, spent about fifteen minutes trying to fix the water pipe and then sat around drinking tea for about two hours. This infuriated Florence to the point where she nearly had smoke coming out of her ears. She would work herself up into a frenzy and fling the windows open on the upper level of the studio-factory and yell, ‘What are you doing, you fucking bastards? You’ve been drinking fucking tea for two fucking hours. Get back to fucking work.’ Then she threw rolls of wallpapers out the window at them. She’d curse them in the morning, at lunchtime, in the afternoon and then she’d forget about it for a while and quickly dash to the windows again and hurl more abuse and more rolls of wallpaper at them.
Sally added that the workers just sat there, staring wide-eyed at Florence and not uttering a sound. ‘They just kept drinking their cups of tea. It was one of the most hilarious things I have ever seen,’ she said. And on yet another occasion, Sally remembered a young interior decorator who came to see Florence for some advice. According to Sally his breath smelt so disgusting that Florence refused to talk to him until he had gone to the chemist to get something for it:
She actually called the chemist and told them that this poor idiot was coming in and what to give him, and the interior decorator had no choice but to obey her. It was kind of like that with everyone in her life, she was very forceful and persuasive. She had the ability to make people do things that they really didn’t want to do, including interior decorators. She would talk them into using paper that at times I was sure they really weren’t convinced was quite right. Anyway, the guy went to the chemist and got his medication and then he came back. Florence sat there like nothing had happened and was quite happy to give him whatever advice he wanted.
Florence was still hungry for life and for success. Ethel Mannin’s credo rang in her ears: ‘Man has not different kinds of energy, but only one energy which he directs into various channels—love, religion, work and moneymaking.’ Florence worked tirelessly and still managed to devote her time (and donate her wallpapers) to a host of charities including the New South Wales Society for Crippled Children, St Margaret’s Hospital for Women, Save the Children Fund, the Royal Art Society of New South Wales and the Elizabethan Theatre. Because of all her commitments Florence’s beloved painting had now been reduced to a weekend activity. But, being seen at the right events, with the right people, was still a priority.
In 1970 Florence met Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, with her daughter Princess Anne, when the British royals briefly visited Australia. And it was around this time that Florence was seen on the arm of a companion who was in his thirties. As Leslie Walford explained, ‘She was unstoppable, insatiable. Though she was in her seventies, she had real sex appeal, a twinkle in her eye. She was having an affair with a young, wild party man, which was pretty outrageous because of how old she was. But she still had the X-factor until the day she died.’ Janet Mosely agreed that Florence still had what it took, ‘She seemed untouchable, aloof—aware of her attractiveness. I’m sure she had a number of sugar daddies or boyfriends. After all, what were all those flowers doing in her bathtub?’ Sally Fitzpatrick believed that Florence was never without a young male companion:
In 1973, I was living in Greece and Florence flew over to go on a tour of the islands with me and at the same time
try and convince me to come back and work for her. She had a mad scheme up her sleeve that she wanted me to come back and take over the business. When she arrived, it was like a twenty-four-hour whirlwind. She arrived in the morning, I picked her up from the airport, dropped her off at a beautiful hotel right in the heart of the city, she freshened up and then we spent the rest of the day exploring in the searing heat with Flo perched under an outrageous hot pink parasol. You should have seen the looks! Somewhere along the way she’d picked up a young handsome pilot. So, she spent the night having sex with him at the hotel and the next day we checked out the islands and she flew back to Australia.
On another occasion Sally recalled walking up the stairs of the studio-factory, only to discover her boss and a young man in an uncompromising position on Florence’s desk. ‘As I walked up the stairs I heard the guy say, “I think someone’s coming,” to which Flo replied, “Oh, it’s only Sally, don’t worry”. Then she roared with laughter.’
After years of hard work in the wallpaper business, Florence now had the time, and the money, to do what she loved best: travel. Some of her jaunts were for pleasure, some were for business and she frequently combined the two. In 1972 and 1973 she took extended trips to Singapore, London, New York and Zurich. By day she promoted her wallpapers, by night she stayed at lavish hotels that included the well-appointed St Moritz Hotel on Central Park in New York and the exclusive Raffles Hotel in Singapore. It was at the latter hotel that she had the good fortune of landing a commission to design wallpaper for the luxurious interiors. According to Leslie Walford, ‘When Florence got the job at Raffles, all the interior designers in Sydney were green with envy.’
Florence had also conquered the United States. As one reporter commented: ‘Florence Broadhurst, well-known artist and wallpaper designer, has returned from a world trip…She was delighted with the success of her wallpapers, particularly in the United States, where she was well received and has now established a firm market’. Her well-heeled clientele in the United States provided a profitable network for Florence that started through an interior decorator named Bob Thayer. Florence had originally met Bob in 1964 while he was working as the American consul in Australia. When Bob retired in the mid-sixties he moved to Arlington, Virginia, where he and his wife went into the interior decorating business. As Florence explained to the Sun in 1965: ‘They took samples of my work with them and this has created a demand I can’t meet.’
For her new American market, Florence harked back to the paintings she produced while motoring around the outback. She created ‘designs mostly based on Australiana—stylised boomerangs, the wallaby hunt, and native wildflowers’. To ensure her market was cornered, Florence applied the marketing techniques that she had perfected in Shanghai, London and Sydney. Florence knew her clients couldn’t come to meet her, so she went to meet them. Throughout the seventies New York and Hawaii became pit stops on her relentless lecture tours that she gave to women in the United States. Florence appeared on television and radio voicing her opinions on business, success and world affairs. When she returned she said:
I was absolutely astonished by the response to my papers. People were astounded that work of this calibre could be done in the southern hemisphere. I had tapped into a highly lucrative overseas market.
It was not long before the Florence Broadhurst Wallpaper network was global and she celebrated her success. On 30 May 1973, the Wentworth Courier noted: ‘Before she leaves for Bahrain to do a bit of décor for the Middle East Hotel Chain, Florence Broadhurst threw one of those huge parties of hers at her Paddington studio on Friday. As well as her trip to the Middle East, Florence will also visit Qantas offices around the world to give them a new look including some murals of Australian bark.’
Now when Florence travelled she carried with her a certificate of introduction from the State premier’s office. It was a certificate that helped pave the way for many hassle-free journeys.
The Bearer of this Credential, Miss Florence Broadhurst, as a respected resident of this State, is proceeding on a visit to: Great Britain, the Continent of Europe and the United States of America. Any courtesy that may be afforded to her will be valued on her part and will be appreciated by this Government. Signed Premier of the State of New South Wales in the Commonwealth of Australia.
Other courteous letters of introduction that Florence sourced from a host of social connections could be found in the depths of her handbag. An associate from Victor Dekyvere & Company, a retailer on Kent Street in Sydney, wrote one of them: ‘A very good friend of mine, Miss Florence Broadhurst, will be visiting Hong Kong on the 3rd July. She has never been in Hong Kong before and she would like some advice as to where to buy cameras, pearls, etc.’
New horizons meant other things to Florence besides travel. In her spare time, Florence had taken up gambling. It was an addiction that started innocently. On the odd occasion she purchased a lottery ticket when she picked up a copy of the Sydney Morning Herald at the newsagency. She was also seen frittering money away on a regular basis at the City Tatts on Pitt Street. But when she became friendly with a select crew who frequented the Royal Randwick Racecourse her new passion evolved into something far more serious—horseracing. It gave Florence a thrill to watch the handsome three-year-old thoroughbreds test their stamina on the mile-and-a-half (two-and-a-half-kilometre) long track. It was a sport that combined all the ingredients that got her blood pumping: taking a chance, the prospect of winning, frocking up and free-flowing champagne. It was the sport of kings. But Florence was never cut out to be an observer. Sipping chardonnay and punting trackside soon lost their appeal. So, with a friend, Mrs E. Davis, she devised a scheme to purchase Petals, a two-year-old filly. Though the legacy of Petals might not be etched into the Australian annals, she was a good investment and turned out to be a moderate success, winning a number of races. And now, at her parties, Florence could say, ‘I own a racehorse.’
Florence also set her sights on finding a new home that reflected the glitz and glamour of her lifestyle. At some point in the late sixties, Florence got rid of her Macleay Street apartment and shifted into a glamorous new pad. The address was Unit 13, Belgravia Gardens, 60 Darling Point Road, Darling Point. According to Leenne Rose, whose mother Sherdene purchased the property in 1978, a year after Florence had died, ‘The apartment was really garish, over-the-top and in your face. We had Christmas there every year for years, but we never had to decorate a single thing. Unit number thirteen just looked like Christmas all the time.’ When Sherdene bought the three-bedroom apartment it was fully furnished, and she kept it in its original state until she died in 1996. The home had outstanding views of Sydney from almost every room—to the south there was the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the city lights, while to the north there were views of the neighbouring suburb of Double Bay and the distant hill that rises up beyond Watson’s Bay to Vaucluse. The apartment had wallpaper on every wall—even a dramatic metallic and white design in the cramped bathroom and toilet that also featured mirrors on every wall. Leenne described it as, ‘Like a make-up room in a theatre—you could see yourself from every possible angle, even the back of your head’. The entrance and hallway were pasted over with the same design that appeared in the bathroom, while the living and dining rooms were embellished with a marblised, repetitive print finished with a smart gold fleck. The bedroom was covered in dramatic, large silver and hot pink tulips. But the pièce de résistance was also in the bedroom—a theatrical queen-sized four-poster bed with a Thai silk canopy in hot pink, curtains (also in hot pink) laced up to each bed post and a quilted, padded bed head that was elegantly scalloped at the edges. It was the colour of a glass of pinot noir. ‘I don’t know how mum slept in the damn thing for all those years, but somehow she did,’ said Leenne, who donated remnants of the bed to the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney.
Leenne also claimed there were four artworks in the living room. Two of these (an undulating landscape and sizeable female nude that ‘nearly took up the who
le wall’) were painted and signed by Florence; a third was a moody sketch of a woman with ‘soft, doe-like eyes’; the fourth was a portrait of Florence in a long, flowing chartreuse dress, with her legs crossed and one bejewelled hand holding the other in her lap. The only other feature in the painting appears in the upper right hand corner. It is a skeletal, ghost-like figure that floats in profile in the air and faces Florence. According to Leenne, who still owns the portrait, the artist was the Canadian wife of Georgios Kostantis, the Greek Consulate in Australia in 1977. Leenne claimed that the portrait was painted three weeks before Florence died. She said that when her mother Sherdene asked the Greek Consular’s wife why she had included the figure in the portrait, she could not explain her motive. Leenne thought the inclusion of the figure was eerie. ‘It looks like death coming toward her,’ she said. While it is doubtless the figure is a chilling addition to the painting, it is hard to ascertain whether the image was an original part of the painting or whether it was inserted by an unknown artist at a later date.
•
In 1971, when Florence was seventy-two-years-old she won a part in a little known Australian short film called David and Pyewacket. Two years later, the film won the coveted Milli Award for the Australian Cinematographer of the Year. Other films that won this award include Storm Boy, My Brilliant Career, Gallipoli and, later, Babe. Directed by feature film veteran Donald Wynne the film was written by his wife, Diana, and set in New South Wales in the 1880s. It is seen through the eyes of a child. Florence’s cameo role is as an old woman. A reporter from the Sun-Herald commented on her appearance, ‘Doing needlepoint, seated in front of the good old Georgian silver piled on an afternoon tea tray was—guess who?—Florence Broadhurst, as a rather wicked old lady’ (Walford, 1971).
A Life By Design Page 13
