My suburb was promised a train station in the '80s. We're still waiting

The Age

7 hours ago

Opinion pieces from local writers exploring their suburb's cliches and realities and how it has changed in the past 20 years. See all 53 stories.
By the time my family first moved to my suburb, it was already going through a transformation. What had been a big chunk of farmland and bushland 27 kilometres east of the CBD was by 1985 in the process of being developed into a new south-eastern hub. A train station and other transport infrastructure that would make it accessible would, we were told, come soon.
It was for many years off the edge of the map for most Melburnians. When asked where I lived, you could be certain there would be a follow-up question: 'Where's that?' I'd cycle through its close neighbours – Scoresby, Wantirna, or Ferntree Gully – until eventually receiving an expression of recognition.
Rowville has since cast off its obscurity and developed into a quite sought-after suburb for those who are not wealthy enough to afford closer to the city, or who would prefer to spend their couple of million on a spacious McMansion than settle for a modest weatherboard in one of the more glamorous postcodes.
One of the largest suburbs in Melbourne's south-east, it now boasts nearly 34,000 souls, (putting it in Australia's top 30 suburbs by population), with shopping centres, a mega pub, enough fast-food outlets to distress a nutritionist and a decent smattering of light industry providing employment for those not willing to take on the notorious Monash Car Park – sorry, freeway – to the city. Strangely, most of the milk bars have survived.
Today's Rowville is a microcosm of the success of Australian multiculturalism. On our leafy close, folk from Chinese, Sri Lankan, Indian, and Anglo-Saxon origins live in quiet harmony, with most getting together for our annual street party. There are, like us, a couple of residents who have been here since the birth of our modest 40-year-old street and have watched house prices move from the $70,000s to over a million dollars, extensions and beautifications notwithstanding.
Despite its transformation, Rowville has kept the bucolic ambience of its farmland days. It was named after 19th-century wool merchant Frederick Row, and his family's magnificent Stamford House Homestead, built in 1882, has been beautifully restored after years of neglect. Now a fine restaurant, the historic building set on six acres of grounds is once again a destination.
Historic estates aside, it is difficult, given the range of housing available in Rowville – from grand ranch-style homes on acre blocks, to one-bed units on subdivided blocks – to give the suburb a class label. It is egalitarian with a strong hint of an aspiration, a trait that has helped make the Aston electorate a conservative stronghold for many years. Perhaps the significant population of self-employed tradies and small business owners has something to do with it – one does not need census data to note the expensive late-model utilities and vans parked in local driveways.
However, we have seen a change. With the abrupt departure of federal MP Alan Tudge in 2023, Labor's Mary Doyle has been handed the – if not poisoned, then certainly tainted – chalice of delivering that long-awaited railway station to Rowvillians.