Tea in the Library (30 page)

We now come to the darkest chapter of Tea In The Library's story, the subject that plagued me from the very beginning. The word that I can still barely think of without a shudder:
signage. 
Who would have predicted that something so simple and relatively minor in the scheme of things could cause so much heartache and destruction? You may think I'm exaggerating. Let me explain: 

When the shopfitters originally quoted for the job, they included a large illuminated sign over the basement steps. This was positioned about four metres back from the building line and footpath, under the roof of the foyer. Because it was over the steps, it was roughly at the eye-level of someone standing on the street. It was about three metres wide, extending across an existing plinth over the steps. I asked the designers to prepare a design using our Logo and “corporate font”, and our colours.

Several unfortunate occurrences surrounded the installation of this sign. The first was an exceptionally poor job on the construction of the sign itself, both in terms of the quality (joins showing, etc.) and the size. When it was installed, it extended above the plinth because it had an arched top. This meant that it covered the window above by about 30 centimetres at its apex. Quite naturally, the occu-pant of that premises objected.

Now, our upstairs neighbour needs some introduction. As the owner of the only other shop in the building
—
the rest being residential
—
we got on quite well with Benny. He was welcoming and friendly, and in this case was quite within his rights to request that the over-large sign be removed from his window (even if that window gave only on to a small office and was always covered with a closed blind). So I set about getting the sign fixed. Because of the demise of the shopfitting company, the original incompetent signmaker had not been paid, which made two reasons why they couldn't be used for the fix-it job. After great difficulty and delay, I found another signmaker, who eventually replaced the arched sign with a rectangular one that did not impinge on Benny's window. There was nothing in the original sign which could be usefully re-used, so it was just dumped. The original sign cost me $5,000. The replacement cost me $3,600.

Meanwhile, despite the size of the sign, we were still not very noticeable from the street. We had a sandwich-board style blackboard sign, which had new information chalked on it every day 
—
menu specials, events, new book releases
—
and it stood at the building line, at the edge of the footpath. The rules of the City Council forbade the placing of such signs on the footpath itself, and on a few occasions the “City Rangers” insisted to the staff that the board infringed this rule, albeit only by a few centimetres. We tried always to be careful about this, but to be
visible
was always our challenge.

At Sandy's instigation we also acquired a couple of dramatic wrought-iron easels, which each held a frame, behind the glass of which we could put some eye-catching displays. Our menu could thus be displayed at street level; and our events advertising could be much more creative. These easels stood carefully inside the building line. Sandy also inaugurated a couple of potted palms at our entrance, and although their fronds did technically infringe the “not over the footpath” rule, the Rangers never complained. We weren't sure if the reason for this was that the fronds were no danger to passers-by; or if the Rangers accepted that they actually improved the streetscape. Which they certainly did.

Our only other signage was a large lettered “BOOKSHOP” on the inside wall of the landing; our Logo painted in the centre of the trompe on the opposite wall; and whatever merchandising we could fit inside the small window beside the entrance door at the bottom of the stairs.

What we really coveted was a cantilevered sign over the footpath, like every other business in the street. But this involved two challenges: finding a reliable signage company, and securing City Council approval. I worked on this from the time we opened, but I never managed to accomplish it in 17 months.

As an interim measure, Dale had suggested a banner. We had one made up, and strung it high over the archway that led to our landing. This could be viewed from directly opposite, on the other side of the road, but was not easily seen from our side of the street.

So this was our highly inadequate signage situation. To pursue approval for a sign over the footpath, I acquired the requisite “Development Application” form from the Sydney City Council, and was a little surprised to find that one used the same multi-paged form, whether applying for a small street sign, or a 40 storey high-rise development. Nevertheless, I hadn't earned three university degrees for nothing, and so eventually I was able to complete the form. The fee was modest. But a difficulty emerged.

The rules for new signs were strict as to size and location. We wanted a sign, of whatever size we were allowed; but the location rules stipulated that the street sign must be a certain distance from other existing street signs. Outside our entrance was a site on the wall where a sign had previously existed. However, a new building had gone up next door in the last year or two, and one of its business signs was installed very close to this site. On the other side was Benny's sign, a monster that had been in place for many years. So we were sandwiched between the two with nowhere to go.

Negotiations were opened with the Body Corporate and a friendly Benny. Discussions centered around the possibility of Benny moving his sign down to the next pylon (which was available, “legal” and still adjacent to the entrance of his business), thus freeing up his existing sign site for Tea In The Library. We would pay for his move as well as our new sign. This looked like a win-win option, if costly for us, and we were getting down to the details of the Development Applications that would be needed for Council. At the last minute, rather suddenly and without explanation, Benny pulled out of the deal. We had offered to covers the costs, but I think he may have been concerned about the possibility of Council objections and preferred to stick with the status quo. This was an understandable concern, but left us again with nowhere to go.

I had also been talking to signmakers about the problem, and had been very disappointed with the difficulty of finding a competent company. None wanted anything to do with the Council DA, and I was about to at least lodge the DA myself, in the (mistaken, as it turned out) belief that this would put something on paper that could be discussed or negotiated with Council. So naïve! Both concepts quite foreign to the process, apparently. Then more trouble struck.

Around the time that the second, smaller version of our illuminated sign was being installed, to address the (legitimate) concerns of Benny and the Body Corporate, a letter was received from Sydney City Council, out of the blue. It indicated that the sign was “unauthorised” and must be removed. Objection was also made to our temporary banner, which we hastily removed. This letter invited representations, and several discussions with Council officers ensued. We immediately lodged a Development Application seeking approval of the illuminated sign
—
because it was sited about four metres back from the street, I had been quite unaware that Council approval was needed for it. I was told by one of the Council officers I talked to that Council had “the final say” over
anything
in a shop that could be seen from the street! Abandoning the Holy Grail of a footpath sign, I set about trying to save the illuminated sign. It was a pity that no-one at Council to whom I spoke bothered to inform me that Council could not retrospectively grant approval for an existing sign, so the DA was basically a waste of time.

I must confess to becoming rather fraught over this issue. This was happening around September/October, and the thought of facing our second
—
and crucial
—
Christmas trading season without any signage at all was appalling. I lost my cool a few times on the phone with stonewalling Council people
—
there was no one person responsible for my small matter, and several different officers passed me around. One kind one agreed to hold off issuing a removal order for the sign until I had a chance to put in a DA requesting approval. Perhaps she didn't know that Council couldn't give retrospective approval, or … ?

Refusal of approval duly arrived. It had been drafted by a Student Planner, to whom our small matter had been delegated. It listed the following reasons for disallowance:

• Council is unable to grant retrospective development consent…
  
• …inconsistent with the general objectives and provisions of the City of Sydney Signage Control Plan…
  
• …will result in signage which is not compatible with the architecture of the building and will give rise to visual clutter.
  
• Exceeds maximum height and area controls …
  
• The subject site is located in “Special Area B” … and the Central Sydney Local Environment Plan 1996 which relate to York Street … which requires that signs be small in size and not be internally illuminated light boxes and be compatible with the heritage significance of the area.
  
• The proposal does not exhibit design excellence …
  
• The proposal is not in the public interest.
  

Glossing over the issues that I had paid good money for good design, the sign was four metres back from the street and under a roof, the building itself was an unprepossessing 1960s dump, and it was surely “in the public interest” that Tea In The Library be able to trade viably, as a lawyer I had to concede that they had got me on the retrospectivity and the size and non-illumination restrictions. I also found it to be almost impossible to find anyone at Council willing to take responsibility for the matter, and to advise me on what we
could
do, rather than what we
couldn't
do.

Nevertheless, after thrashing out the matter with Sandy and The Team, and a couple of G&T's, we sailed back into battle. I drew up quite a comprehensive submission to take the matter to the Small Permits Appeals Panel, but I was told that discretion at this level seemed non-existent. And the next level of appeal was the (expensive) Land and Environment Court!

At this point the really scary letter from Council arrived. It was an order to remove the illuminated sign within 14 days. The letter was dated 19th November. There goes Christmas trading. A fine for non-compliance was threatened
—
a maximum penalty of $100,000! Plus, if I failed to act, Council would rip the sign down itself and charge me for its expenses.

I conceded defeat. Removing the illuminated sign was hurriedly arranged, and of course costly. That sign too was dumped, like its predecessor. The sign company man said he “was sorry for me”. Pathos! Indeed, tragedy!

In desperation I tried another approach, and wrote to the Lord Mayor herself
—
who had in fact visited Tea In The Library as a speaker at a charity event we had run. I didn't ask for special consideration
—
just for one responsible Council officer who could help me through the morass in which I was floundering. I didn't receive a direct reply until some time later, but I think this letter had some effect, as shortly afterwards I received a call from a senior Council officer who took a look at the whole sorry mess. She helped me complete the DA form for a very small non-illuminated version of the sign to go on the plinth, and the accompanying drawings, and even stood with me at the Council office counter to submit it. At one point while we were queuing, she was approached by an officer from the Council's Legal Department. They stepped aside and had a brief and agitated conversation. No Legal Department impediments were raised.

It was at this counter that one piece of the jigsaw fell into place. I had wondered why Council had let us trade for over a year without complaining of our apparently unauthorised sign, turned a blind eye to many other prima facie breaches in the same city block (which are still there to this day), and yet had now come down on us like a tonne of bricks. While a very bad-tempered Duty Town Planner was reviewing the DA, he said something curt about “knowing all about things” at our shop, although he had never been there. The penny dropped. Someone had dobbed us in to the Council. Retail is tough.