Juanita Nielsen, Victoria Street and the Battle That Changed Sydney’s Planning Laws

Fifty years after Juanita Nielsen vanished from Kings Cross, her story remains one of Sydney’s most notorious cold cases. The heiress and local newspaper publisher disappeared in July 1975, likely murdered for opposing the Victoria Point development that threatened to demolish a street of historic terraces.

Her disappearance has been picked over in podcasts, documentaries and tabloid specials. But a new book by journalist and former NSW Department of Planning media manager Mark Skelsey argues that this focus has obscured a more important story: how Nielsen’s activism, and the wider struggle over Victoria Street, helped shape how Sydney plans its future.

In Views To Die For, Skelsey retraces the political and planning battles that defined the 1970s, reframing Nielsen as a key figure in a shift toward more participatory planning, rather than a victim. What began as research into attitudes toward high-rise development became a broader inquiry into civic resistance, contested neighbourhoods, and how that legacy still influences the city.

Author Mark Skelsey under the Woolloomooloo Mural

“I had a hunch,” he says, “that if I followed the threads of the Victoria Street campaign, I’d find they had influenced the new planning system.” His instinct proved right.

The book traces the fight to save Victoria Street, waged by a coalition of residents, squatters, unionists, students and artists against inner-city redevelopment that threatened to erase working-class communities and historic streetscapes. “People are central to everything,” Skelsey says. “And what’s more, loud and noisy people are central to everything.”

The Victoria Street struggle took place during a period of rapid gentrification in Sydney. Private developers, often with government backing, sought to remake the inner city into a high-rise enclave. Nielsen, who had inherited a Kings Cross terrace and ran the NOW community newspaper, used her platform to warn residents, challenge secrecy in planning decisions, and amplify the voices of those resisting demolition. Her opposition to Victoria Point put her in the crosshairs of powerful interests. She was last seen entering the Carousel Club, linked to organised crime, where she had been lured under the pretence of discussing advertising.

Nielsen walking her cat, Charlie, down Victoria St, for a 1971 edition of NOW

“She started out running advertorials,” Skelsey says. “But over time, she became radicalised. In the pre-Internet age, she was a pollinator, connecting people, spreading ideas, building coalitions.” Those coalitions were often unlikely. “Victoria Street and Woolloomooloo were places of conflict, but because of that, new ideas emerged. You don’t get that in many suburbs.”

Skelsey draws on archival research and interviews with activists like Wendy Bacon and Mick Fowler, members of the Victoria Street Resident Action Group, and academics such as Andrew Jakubowicz. One former activist, Arthur King, recalls being kidnapped and locked in the boot of a car for three days. These human stories ground the book’s broader themes: the dangers of secretive planning, the role of organised resistance, and the ongoing contest over who gets to shape the city.

With years of experience in the planning system, Skelsey brings an insider’s clarity. “In the journey of writing the book, I strengthened my view about the importance of community participation in, and the transparency of, planning strategies and decisions,” he says. “This is particularly to help protect and increase affordable housing and preserve valuable heritage.”

The book also speaks to the present. In an era of fast-tracked development and a worsening housing crisis, Skelsey notes that some of the 1970s gains, such as heritage protections and community consultation, are being wound back. Some critics now argue these protections contribute to the housing shortage by slowing construction.

Views To Die For challenges that view, highlighting the civic value of resident activism. “Participation can be messy and difficult,” Skelsey concedes. “But it usually leads to better outcomes.” Government alone, he argues, can’t resolve the housing crisis or create liveable cities. “We need people on the ground, residents, organisers, renters, surfacing concerns and imagining alternatives.”