It was a similar story at Sydney Airport. Never mind the duty-free. Crowds gather around a television set at Sydney Airport to watch the broadcast of American astronaut Neil Armstrong becoming the first man to walk on the moon, July 21, 1969. Credit:SMH Other stories have emerged about how the city managed to watch what was arguably the most spectacular and historic broadcast of all time. The Sydney Opera House was under construction and Evelyn Klopfer was working there. Architects and some of the consultants worked in a row of huts by the waters edge. A corridor ran the length of that building and in the middle there was a small black and white television near the ceiling.

The girl who holds all the secrets to the Opera House: Evelyn Klopfer with some of the confidential plans. March 15, 1972. Credit:John Patrick O'Gready She writes: "As we (I was working for Peter Hall and Lionel Todd, architects) passed during the day not knowing at what time the men would actually stand on the moon if ever, we kept looking at the set, and eventually we saw them land there. "With enormous joy, we saw them step onto the moon on that little black and white set looking out onto the harbour by the Opera House we were still building. How wonderful. Nobody will forget the moon landing but nobody will ever forget us building the Opera House either." Bob Beale was a student at Epping Boys High School. Several boys watched the landing out of school. There were repercussions. He writes: "The problem for those who had had not been allowed to stay home by their parents was that the regular roll call was held during post-lunch maths classes."

When the large number of absentees became obvious, Beale recalled a maths master went from class to class asking those who'd missed maths to stand up. "One by one, the miscreants were identified and rounded up, either that day or the next," recalled Beale. "Anyone who could not provide a reasonable excuse or a parental note for the absence was sent to the office of the principal and received an automatic punishment of 'six of the best' – that is, they were hit three times on each open hand with a stiff, thin wooden cane about a metre long." Among those sent for six cuts was the school captain and a substantial number of the prefects.

"It must have taken a sustained physical and mental effort by [the principal] to admonish and vigorously swing his cane six times for each student, which each blow coming to a jarring and painful halt. But he grimly stuck to his task." Marco Nero, a passion for all things space from a young age. Another student recalled: "The principal had been delivering quite a few swishes before I arrived in the office. His words to me that day are still crystal clear: 'I'm going to do this even if it wrecks my bowling arm'."

Marco Nero from Northmead developed an interest in space exploration after watching the landing. "My mother had me sit and watch the moon landing on the television," he writes. "I still remember the food I was eating at the time and then stepping outside to look up at the moon in the pale blue sky as the historic events were unfolding." "The moon landings inspired me to pursue an interest in the space program - which was sidetracked less than a decade later when Star Wars came out." Paul Dorahy of Lismore Heights writes: "I was 21 and working for an engineering firm in Alexandria. A TV set was brought into the office for us to watch the landing. I had to make an on-site visit in the city that morning and got held up. Driving back through Redfern I realised I wouldn’t make it in time. "Redfern was in full decline back then. The only place I could think to find a TV set was an early-opening pub on the main drag," Dorahy remembered. The Sydney Morning Herald's front page reporting on the Apollo 11 landing. Credit:SMH

"In those days you wouldn’t contemplate going into an early-opener in Redfern for any reason at any time. In I went feeling like an alien. The half dozen or so occupants were just as I expected. The barman suspiciously watched me approach. 'Yeah?' he said. I pointed to the TV above his head and wondered if they might be watching the moon landing. He hesitated and eying me sideways announced to the bar: 'Do any of youse mind me changing the channel? This fella wants to watch the moon landing'." "The barman assured me it wouldn’t matter to them what was on The Box and thanked me for reminding him. As the channel flickered into action there appeared the wobbly image of a few rungs of ladder and a mechanical leg resting on an indistinct grainy surface. The barman suddenly became interested and friendly, amazed that we were actually seeing a real-life close-up of the moon." Loading "Someone urged the barman to turn the volume up. Then Armstrong’s boot appeared on the ladder. The whole bar became animated. 'Are they really up there?'' 'What, on the moon?' 'Is that happening now?' 'It’s bloody faked,' someone yelled. 'Shut up you stupid bastard,' came the reply. For a few precious moments myself and these inhabitants of the bar were galvanised in awe." Colin Lamb, a serviceman at the time writes: "I arrived in Nui Dat, South Vietnam on July 2, 1969. While there I worked as an electronic technician on the short wave radio transmitters that formed the Army’s communication link back to Australia."

When I see it even now, it still gives me a shudder Colin Lamb "Because this role involved shift work, I happened to be off duty on the morning of July 21. In the table tennis room of the recreation/amenities hut there was a small black and white TV in one corner which picked up an American Forces channel from (I think) Saigon, now Ho Chi Minh city. "I was completely alone in the room when, just before 10 o’clock, I saw Neil Armstrong step down the ladder and onto the moon’s surface. Even at the time, I was aware of the historic nature of what was happening, and was somewhat annoyed that none of the other hundred-odd people in the unit were there to see it. "When I see it even now, it still gives me a shudder, and I can almost feel I’m back in that rather bare and crude room."