Old KL – GPO, Padang & Selangor Government Offices
Old KL – GPO, Padang & Selangor Government Offices
by Manjeet Dhillon
Share
Author
sarongtrails
Share
Old KL – Part 3
Eh, hello there! Didn’t hear you lot creep up. Been waiting here like a forgotten satay stick, lost in a daydream about the good ol’ days. You know, back when KL wasn’t a flashy metropolis but a sleepy little village. Want to hear a tale?
Back in 1885, it was a whole different ball game. Imagine this: you’re on a rickety steam launch chugging up the Klang River from Pengkalan Batu (now Klang). Forget air-conditioned taxis; you’re surrounded by the rhythmic jingle of bullock bells as your cargo gets hauled off by these lumbering beasts. Next stop: Batu Tiga!
Here you’d find the Stephenson brothers sweating it out growing pepper, while Captain Christiansen nursed his coffee plantation. It was all jungle back then, thick and steamy. Nights were spent huddled around a campfire, hoping the tigers mistook you for something less tasty. The next morning you move along, and sometime around early afternoon you’ll see a high smoke stack in the centre of a small village known as Batu Limablas (present-day Brickfields). That smoke stack was from the now-defunct Shanghai Smelting and Mining Company. Half a mile later, you’ve hit a home run. Here’s Kuala Lumpur for the taking: mud houses thatched with attap, with their backsides over the riverbanks.
No fancy hotels, then, folks. Just a rest house with a cast of characters more colourful than a basket of bunga telur. There was Mrs. Reyne, a formidable woman with her son Spencer, and then there was John Klyne, a Malaccan of Portuguese descent, who surveyed the land and inspected mines; that’s what he did.
But hold on, Klyne wasn’t just a one-trick pony. He was instrumental in setting up the Selangor Musuem perched atop Bukit Nanas, which wasn’t quite ready yet. The real story, however, unfolds when Klyne decides to retire. Imagine this: pension in hand, he hightailed it to his freehold property on Ampang Street. But here’s the kicker—he didn’t just pack his bags and a pipe. No, sir! Klyne, in his infinite wisdom, decided the museum collection needed a “temporary home.” And where did he decide to house this menagerie of Malayan marvels? Why, his very own dining room, of course!
Klyne’s cosy dining room transformed into a bizarre menagerie. Stuffed baboons, Klyne’s prized possessions, were meticulously arranged around the walls in the most grotesque postures imaginable. Here you have one perched on a chair, hands on knees, like a well-behaved Sunday school student. Another one, the cheeky fellow, is casually crossed-legged, inspecting an imaginary durian tree. And let’s not forget the contemplative baboon, hands behind its back, lost in thought. But the pièce de résistance? Every single baboon, each frozen in its peculiar pose, had a cigar firmly clenched in its mouth. Can you imagine sitting down for a civilised dinner with a room full of cigar-chomping, furniture-sitting baboons staring you down?
And you say, what about entertainment? Forget it! Your options were limited to dodging durian skins and admiring the sampans clogging the river. Ah, the simple life…
One gharry, one dhoby who took weeks to return your clothes (mildewed, no less!), and letters thrown on a table by a grumpy clerk in his pajamas Those were the days, eh?
Shall we get on now with the Postal and Telegraph offices, that is?
7. General Post Office (GPO) / Postal and Telegraph Offices
days? In my younger days (which admittedly were a good while back), things were a tad different. Back in 1889, forget fancy buildings; your mail lived in two puny huts near the train station, just across from the parade ground. The next post office, the one embroiled in our sambal hot gossip, was a whole different breed—a two-story building on the south side of Padang! And let me tell you, the character living upstairs had more stories than the letters themselves.
SSeems the old post office down by the Padang was a real nest of shenanigans. First off, picture this: the postmaster himself, a retired seafarer, barking orders at his clerks like a salty old captain! Can you imagine the poor souls trying to sort mail with a nautical vocabulary ringing in their ears? “Belay that letter, Dollah! Hoist the mailbags to the sorting table!” And the grand finale! The upstanding Secretary to the Government himself shows up after closing time, just wanting his mail. A simple request, right? Wrong! This grumpy postmaster, probably fueled by a bit too much grog, yells down from his perch like a parrot with a bad attitude! Poor Secretary gets an earful of colourful language that would make a sailor blush! Needless to say, there was a swift change in postmaster.
Fast forward to 1907, and things got a little grander. The General Post Office (GPO) sprouted up, lookin’ all Mughal-style with its flat decorative pediments, Chattri pinnacles, and polygonal corner stair towers. But hold your horses—unlike its cousins, this one skipped the dome thing. Must’ve been a trendsetter, eh?
But all good things must come to an end. By 1985, the GPO said sayonara to its postal duties and moved to their current digs (Pejabat Pos Besar Kuala Lumpur, next to the Dayabumi building).
Speaking of stories, let’s rewind to the wild west days of mail delivery—the 1800s! Back then, the “Dak Service” (fancy name, huh?) ruled the roost. And who delivered the mail? None other than Velloo, the postrunner. This speedy fella from India (we’re talking Hikara running caste speedy!) would sprint all the way from Damansara with a single bag of mail on his head.
His grand finale? Dumping the bag on a table at Bristow’s Land Office quarters. Talk about casual! Everyone would then huddle around, sort the mail like a neighbourhood game night, and then Velloo would handle the final delivery.
8. Padang / Parade Grounds (Merdeka Square)
Ah, the Padang! This very spot where we stand now was once a sea of people, all united by a single dream—Merdeka! Can you almost hear it? The electricity in the air, the joyous shouts of “Merdeka!” echoing through the streets. And the music! The glorious strains of “Negaraku” filled the air, a powerful anthem that sent shivers down your spine. Remember that feeling? The pride, the hope, the overwhelming sense of unity?
They say Jimmy Boyle’s rendition of “Kemegahan Negaraku” was legendary. A voice that soared with such passion could move mountains. Makes you wish you could rewind time and experience it all again, wouldn’t you say? The Padang might not be the same anymore, but the spirit of Merdeka lives on. A reminder of the sacrifices made, the dreams achieved, and the future we continue to build together.
9. Selangor Government Offices / Federal Secretariat Building (Sultan Abdul Samad Building)
Ahoy, mateys! Bujang Masa Lalu back on deck, and this time we’re diving deep into the nitty-gritty of the Selangor Government Offices! This grand dame, fondly called the “Grand Old Lady,” stands guard over the Padang like a seasoned captain. Built between 1894 and 1897, it was the first to bring the exotic flavour of Neo-Saracenic architecture to Malaya. Take a gander at that verandah—a parade of arches in all shapes and sizes, from keyhole to horseshoe—keepin’ things interesting. And don’t forget to tip your hat to those eye-catching, onion-shaped domes that gleam like jewels in the sun.
Now, you landlubbers might think a building’s just bricks and mortar, but this beauty’s got a story to tell! Just the sheer amount of materials used would make your jaw drop. We’re talking a mind-boggling four million bricks, enough to build a wall that’d make the Great Wall of China blush (well, maybe not that long, but you get the idea). And to hold it all together? A cool 2,500 barrels of cement—that’s one heck of a sticky situation! But wait, there’s more loot in the hold! They threw in a hefty dose of limescale (don’t ask me, mateys), some shiny copper that would make a pirate captain drool (5,000 pounds, no less! ), and enough steel and iron (50 tonnes) to build a small armada! Let’s not forget the 30,000 cubic feet of timber—that’s one sturdy ship, I tell ya!
The original blueprint for the building was crafted by A.C. Norman, assisted by R.A.J. Bidwell, however, this design did not resonate with the vision of Charles Spooner, who oversaw public works in Malaya at the time. Under Spooner’s direction, Bidwell reimagined the structure, infusing it with architectural elements now recognised as Indo-Sarcenic. Notably, A.B. Hubback, a senior draughtsman newly arrived in the colonial administration, joined the effort, lending his expertise to various aspects, including the fixtures. While A.C. Norman’s name is immortalised on the foundation stone and his original ground plan served as a framework, the building’s final design reflects the creative interplay between Bidwell’s reworking and Hubback’s enhancements, guided by Spooner’s aesthetic sensibilities.
Fast forward to 1978, and this grand dame got a swanky makeover to house the nation’s top courts. But by 2007, the legal eagles had flown the coop, setting sail for swanky new digs in Putrajaya.
To truly appreciate its architecture, my preferred route involves a leisurely walk along the riverbanks, gradually approaching the clock tower that stands tall above you. This vantage point provides an unobstructed view of the Grand Old Lady.
Your support means the world and keeps the spirit of exploration alive! If you’ve found the content valuable, please consider buying me coffee. Your kindness not only fuels quality content but also acknowledges the time invested.