Mann Island c.1898

Mann Island c.1890
Liverpool’s constant renewal has left the city with a legacy of buildings spanning three centuries. The top photograph can be placed immediately because of the presence of the White Star offices, which opened in 1897. Around it are three of the city’s architectural losses. To the left, are the Goree Piazzas – magnificent early nineteenth century warehouses which were firebombed during the War and then pulled down for road widening. In front of them runs the Liverpool Overhead Railway – opened in 1893 and demolished within a few years of the Goree in 1957/58. The church in the background is St George’s Church in Derby Square (as it is now named), which only just lasted to the end of the nineteenth century before demolition.
The importance of photographic documentation can be seen in the bottom image, which was taken before the Overhead Railway was built. The tower in the centre was the hydraulic tower for James Street Station – again a victim of wartime bombing.
Looking at sites such a YoLiverpool – it is refreshing to see so many photographers are making the effort to record Liverpool’s changing face. Not all photographs are masterpieces but in 20+ years time, a new generation will be grateful for today’s photographers who are so passionate about their city.

Myrtle Gardens, 1969

Boys’ Orphanage, Myrtle Street, 1885

Girls’ Orphanage, Myrtle Street, 1885

The site of Myrtle Gardens has an interesting history as these three previously unpublished photographs show. In 1800, the original Botanic Gardens were sited there before being removed to Edge Lane in 1836. Myrtle Street was a pleasant rural lane but was soon absorbed into the rapidly expanding town. A female ophanage school was commenced in 1843 and opened in November of that year. The boys’ orphanage school was completed in 1854 (at the same time as the Church of Holy Innocents on the same site). The architect was John Cunningham (architect of the Sailors’ Home) and the buildings are in a simple, unpretentious style in keeping with their purpose.
In 1934, the multi-storey Myrtle Garden flats were built on the site (subsequently sold in the 1990s to a private developer for refurbishment into modern apartments and renamed Minster Court). There were, until recently, reminders of the original Botanic Gardens in the street names: Grove, Olive, Almond, Laurel, Mulberry, Peach and Vine Streets. To help with locating the site. here is a 1930s map:

Palatine Club, 1969

Palatine Club, 1864

The Post-War reconstruction (or destruction depending on your point of view) of Liverpool city centre, saw many fine buildings swept away. This fine palazzo at the foot of Bold Street was one. Built in 1854 to the designs of G.O. Parnell, it was painted by William Herdman for his great undertaking, the book Modern Liverpool. The fine chromo-lithograph shows an impressive building with classical detailing built out of shining Bath stone. Herdman (son of WG) was impressed by the building but not by its use – perhaps cocking a snook at the London rich:

The principal building in this view is the Palatine Club House. Club life has never found a congenial atmosphere in Liverpool, which is an arena for busy hands and fertile brains to labour and scheme and thrive in, but affords very small scope for wealthy leisure to expend itself in enjoyment. The habits of life engendered by commercial pursuits are quite unfavourable to the “dolce far niente” (translation pleasant idleness/sweet doing nothing) principle, which is essential to the club lounger.

I remember the building in the mid-1970s. The Press Club were its last tenants if I remember correctly. Why pull down such a good building for the characterless modern shops that replaced it is an almost pointless question? I wish I knew the reasoning behind such wanton destruction. On a totally unrelated point, note the hand-drawn milk float further down the street.

I was reliably told by a member of English Heritage some years back that there were about 30 equestrian statues (i.e statues with someone on them) in Britain. I have forgotten the exact number (33 springs to mind) and an internet search has been of little help. Liverpool has four of them (Victoria and Albert on St George’s Plateau/King Edward VII at Pier Head and George III outside TJ Hughes on London Road).
Now we have another statue of a horse (although without a rider) down at Mann Island (to be revealed once the new Museum of Liverpool is opened. This one is in tribute to the role the working horse (and carter) played in the vital transporting of goods to and from the docks. Today’s photograph celebrates their contribution and looks as if it was taken in the late 1940s or early 1950s. Once a familiar sight, their days were numbered as motorised transport took over their role.
As for the statue, I have only seen press photos so far – so I will have to reserve my judgement until I see it in situ. I hope it is better than many of the recent ’school of realism’ efforts that have sprung up over recent years. It is interesting that the two most popular sculptures (Superlambananas and Antony Gormley’s Other Place) are far more abstract in concept than the literalism of most of the others. Perhaps an indication to those who commission art that people are more adventurous than they are given credit for.

While researching yesterday’s post about Squeaking Jimmy, I dug out my copies of Horne and Maund’s seminal five book series Liverpool Transport. A lifetime’s work – these are often described as books for ‘anoraks’ by those with only a passing interest in transport. To me, they belong to a fine tradition of writing about Liverpool that I believe is unrivalled in any other city.
Over the last 40+ years, the number of books keeps rising, including many seminal works such as Quentin Hughes’s Seaport – which had a profound effect on all who read it – and the Pevner series, recently brilliantly revised in two volumes by Richard Pollard and Joseph Sharples. There have been many other important books – including English Heritage’s six volume series published for Capital of Culture Year. I have published approaching 200 titles as Bluecoat Press and yet I have turned down five times as many because there is a limit to what I can do. The result of all this effort is a deep awareness of the Liverpool’s rich history – quite astonishing for such a ‘young’ city. Go to Manchester, Newcastle, Leeds or any other city and you will find nothing like the same breadth or depth of titles. Sadly, I see the number of books being published rapidly slowing down – after all, there are only two major bookshops (both Waterstones) in the city centre and little else outside. The internet is obviously a superb source of information but it is difficult to replicate the structure of a physical book (although ebooks will soon take on this function).
Publishing is at an interesting crossroads and I hope my blog helps in the transition from paper to digital. Today’s photographs are a case in point – two previously unpublished images of market life in the 1890s. Both are captioned Back o’ the Market and bear close similarities to Inston’s work. This is life in the raw as hawkers try to make a few pennies from selling rags, broken crockery or whatever else can make them a few coppers.

My apologies for the short break – and also for the quality of today’s photograph, an 1890s lantern slide which has deteriorated over the years. Nevertheless, it is a great image of street life taken with a hand-held camera. In my book on Charles Frederick Inston, I outlined the way in which camera technology became more portable and film became faster and easier to use once roll-film came into use. Naturally this changed the way photographers worked and candid street photography became a fashion that was reflected in the competition categories amongst amateur photographic societies. Within a short period of time, photography shifted from being a rich man’s pursuit to a popular medium within the pockets of working men and women.
The photograph is captioned Squeaking Jimmy, Church Street. The building in the background is Russell’s Building, which was bombed during the War and later replaced by Littlewoods (now Primark). As for Squeaking Jimmy – I can only guess that he was selling those little toy whistles that imitate bird noises or something similar – unless there is a more sinister interpretation to his name.

The poster outside The Jacey cinema is advertising Black Orpheus, a 1959 film about the Rio Carnival, but this is 1970 and the end of an era for Brown’s department store. Clayton Square was once Liverpool’s finest city centre square but it had gradually become rough at the edges and in need of serious investment. Had it got it, back in the 1970s, we would be admiring an interesting mix of late-Georgian/Victorian buildings which would have softened the brutal impact of St John’s Market. What we got was a repeat of the same mistake. Rip out the character and erect a shopping mall which, after little more than 20 years, is already showing its age. As is always the case, commercial interests run rough-shod over the sensibilities of the public – the very people they are trying to entice into their crumbling malls. In truth the public has voted – which is why these ’shopping experiences’ are emptying out. Sadly, the damage is already done and no amount of hand-wringing can restore the period character to the area.

Park Lane/Jamaica Street c1930

The same area 1995

Another dramatic comparison between the Liverpool of the 1930s and today (or, more accurately, the 1990s). Annoyingly, the plane’s wing is obscuring Brick Street where Pat O’Mara (author of The Autobiography of a Liverpool Slummy) lived and where I have my offices but, directly below the wing tip you can make out St Vincent’s primary school, with children playing in the yard (see post of May 27). Everywhere is industry, from the long sheds of Park Lane Goods Station to the countless warehouses. The large block underneath the plane wing is now the Contemporary Urban Centre – but all around are equally impressive warehouses (all demolished). Great Georges Square is just above the wing – and a couple of streets along is the Church of St Michael (bombed in the War). In the centre (to the left of The Contemporary Urban Centre) is a rather pitiful playground for the hundreds of children who lived in the immediate locality.

Compare the density of the 1930s photograph with the one I took in 1995. Liverpool’s population had peaked in the 1931 Census at 846,00. By 1991, it had shrunk to 470,000 (over a much larger physical area). Back in the 1930s, that wedge of streets around St Michael’s church (Pitt Street, Kent Street, Upper Frederick Street) was a concentrated slum of overcrowded terraces and courts – many were demolished in the following years to make way for tenements. Park Lane was a major thoroughfare, lined with shops and businesses – a very different city.

Strand Street c1958

Aerial View, 1952

In previous posts, I have referred to the Dock Road, or in this case Strand Street as this stretch was more formally named. My April 21st post about The Trawler showed one of the last pubs on this street before it was demolished. In the top photograph, it can just be made out next to the building with an advert for Golden Stream Tea. In mid-shot is the same cabin (selling Senior Service cigarettes) that appeared in the April 12th post about the Overhead Railway. Originally, the kiosk was part of the James Street station. Only the railway lines under the Overhead are left – which must date the photograph to about 1958.
The position of the photograph is made clearer from the 1952 aerial photograph. The block of buildings can be seen in the bottom right hand corner, with James Street to the left of it (and the White Star building standing in isolation). The street after James Street (just before The Trawler) is Red Cross Street – one of the old ‘lost streets’ of the docks. Elsewhere, in the aerial photograph, one can see the concentration of dock buildings around Canning Dock, the remains of the Goree Piazzas and, in the distance the Three Sisters (the chimneys of Clarence Dock power station). How the city has changed in 50 years!

Here is a wonderfully, moody shot of a carter heading west along Wapping in the early morning. To his left is the Overhead Railway and in the shadows is the Baltic Fleet, a remarkable survivor of the many pubs that once lined the Dock Road. The photograph was taken in 1929 by John Newburn, a member of The Photographic Circle based in Birkenhead. Judging by the label on the back of the print it was a submission to The Amateur Photographer magazine’s Advanced Workers’ Competition. I hope it won, it really does capture the place and time. Perhaps more attention should be paid to the work of amateur photographic societies. For decades they were the standard bearers of photography in Liverpool but their efforts are often overlooked because of that dreaded word ‘amateur’. In truth, many of the photographers were highly skilled and dedicated and more than happy to pursue photography as a hobby. Commercial photography places different demands – working to commissions rather than having the freedom to just enjoy taking a shot simply for the sake of a pleasing picture.