Tucked away in the bustling heart of Sydney’s city center, within the iconic Harry Seidler-designed building affectionately nicknamed “the mushroom,” lies a time capsule: the Commercial Travellers’ Association (CTA) Club. For an astounding 46 years, this unique establishment has stood defiantly against the tides of modernization, remaining unrenovated, un-bought-out, and utterly captivating in its preserved state.
In a city renowned for its relentless pursuit of the new, where heritage buildings often succumb to the allure of luxury apartments or trendy restaurants, the mere existence of the CTA Club is remarkable. Its continued operation, maintaining the very essence of its 1977 inception, borders on miraculous. This enduring legacy stands as a testament to its unique charm and historical significance, even in the face of changing urban landscapes.
The Commercial Travellers Association building in Sydney’s Martin Place, showcasing its distinctive Brutalist architecture.
Even amidst appreciation from some quarters, the building has faced its critics. Dominic Perrottet, the Premier of New South Wales, once publicly included the CTA Club on his list of “10 iconic buildings I’d bulldoze,” citing its “strange UFO-like structure” as an eyesore of Brutalist architecture. Despite such critiques, the “fanclub” of the Commercial Travellers Association, whether consciously or not, has ensured its survival, recognizing the inherent heritage value in this unique urban space.
Stepping Back in Time at the CTA Club
This “fanclub” is likely to expand, as a new wave of Sydney-siders discovers the bygone-era charms of the CTA Club. Recently “activated” by the Sydney Festival, the venue hosted US artist Kelsey Lu’s immersive overnight soundscape experience within its 28 hotel rooms, alongside a vibrant three-week program featuring bands and DJs in its subterranean lounge. This repurposing of architectural landmarks as cultural venues is a central theme of the Sydney Festival, breathing new life into historical spaces.
Descending the wide spiral staircase of the CTA Club, one is immediately transported to another era. Many Sydneysiders may have hurried past this location countless times, yet few have paused to explore its depths. The interior décor unapologetically embraces the 1970s: think plush velvet booths, boldly patterned carpets, and textured walls that evoke a sense of tactile nostalgia. The lounge, temporarily christened “The Weary Traveller,” pays direct homage to the Commercial Travellers Association’s original purpose as accommodation for travelling salespeople. The intimate, low-ceilinged diner, now known as “The Disco Bistro,” further enhances this retro ambiance.
Inside “The Weary Traveller” lounge at the Commercial Travellers Association Club, featuring classic 1970s velvet booths and retro carpet.
During the Sydney Festival activation, CTA employees themselves took on roles as bartenders, floor staff, and cleaners, adding to the authentic atmosphere. John, the bar supervisor, a 30-year veteran of the CTA Club, shared anecdotes of past clientele, including the famed British-American comedian Bob Hope. In its heyday during the 70s and 80s, the CTA Club was a popular spot not only for commercial travellers but also for the politicians, lawyers, and Reserve Bank officials who frequented Martin Place. Even judges were known to occasionally grace its halls, solidifying its place as a unique hub within Sydney’s professional landscape.
Kelsey Lu and Sonic Dreams in a Retro Setting
The Sydney Festival event, featuring Kelsey Lu’s “The Lucid: A Dream Portal to Awakening,” offered a unique, if somewhat incongruous, experience within this retro setting. While the minimum $200 fee for a single room might initially raise eyebrows, it’s arguably a bargain in Sydney’s expensive hotel market, especially considering it included entry to the Weary Traveller’s late-night program.
However, the intended synergy between the downstairs bar’s lively atmosphere, the CTA Club rooms’ retro-futuristic aesthetic, and Lu’s minimalist soundscape seemed somewhat lost in translation. Lu’s composition aimed to “invite audiences on a sonic trip that flows into a dream state,” yet the overstimulation of the environment arguably clashed with the desired aural cleanse of an eight-hour sound bath. Despite Lu’s intention to explore the “joint idea that architecture speaks not of history but of time and the dreams that lie therein,” the execution felt slightly disconnected.
The interior of the Commercial Travellers Association Club, highlighting its well-preserved 1970s design and unique atmosphere within Harry Seidler’s MLC Centre.
Lu’s “bespoke audio object,” a tassel-adorned mound placed in each room, added a quirky, almost whimsical touch to the experience. However, practicalities intruded as guests grappled with vintage air conditioning units and sound levels, proving that even artistic endeavors can be challenged by the realities of older infrastructure. The shared experience of navigating these quirks became a point of conversation and even camaraderie among festival attendees.
While a modern, minimalist hotel might have provided a more neutral canvas for Lu’s soundscape, the CTA Club offered something far more compelling: a sense of place steeped in history and character. The Sydney Festival’s choice to activate this unique location, despite potential conceptual or auditory mismatches, demonstrated a commendable ambition and willingness to take risks.
Ultimately, the enduring appeal of the Commercial Travellers Association Club lies in its very essence: a perfectly preserved slice of Sydney’s past. The walls, adorned with photographs of past presidents dating back to 1886, whisper tales of a bygone era of commercial travel and social networking. From J Inglis, the first president, to the memorably named G Balls, these figures represent a rich history embedded within the fabric of this remarkable establishment. The CTA Club is more than just a building; it’s a living testament to Sydney’s evolving story and the enduring charm of the unexpected.
