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.

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.

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!

The last post was about Liverpool pioneering pre-cast concrete. Today’s is about the city’s role in pioneering the uses of cast-iron for structural purposes in buildings. It is often said, incorrectly, that Ironbridge near Telford, was where the Industrial Revolution started – following Abraham Darby’s construction of the cast-iron bridge that still stands today as a major tourist draw. The bridge was constructed in 1779 – some seven years after iron was used for structural purposes in St Anne’s Church on St Anne Street (now demolished). Two years later, iron pillars were used in the construction of St James Church, on Upper Parliament Street, making it the oldest surviving use of cast-iron in Britain.
The photograph is of a later building, the Export Carriage and Wheelworks which stood on St Anne Street until the 1990s before it was burned down (the Fire Station is now on its site). With its facade reminiscent of the Southern States of the USA, it was highly regarded by Picton (‘among the very handsome buildings which Liverpool contains. This must be considered one of the ornaments of the town. The interior is arranged at the front of the building with large, commodious and very light showrooms, wherein are on view very handsome and first-class carriages of every description’). The building was opened in 1859 – some five years before Peter Ellis’s bold use of cast-iron in the construction of Oriel Chambers. Liverpool’s history of innovation with the material can still be seen in the two magnificent cast-iron churches of St George’s, Everton (1812-14) and St Michael in the Hamlet (1814-15), as well as the magnificent facade of Greenbank House (c1815). What a great shame that the Carriage Works and the Sailors’ Home have not survived to add to the list.

Here is a photograph of the building on the right of the previous blog. Before the road was widened, Dale Street projected a block further down (towards the Tunnel) to a junction with Byrom Street. I thought that identifying everything in the photograph would be plain sailing but, unfortunately, after hours of checking through various Gore’s and Kelly’s, I am still short of answers. Blackburn Assurance, the building on the far left replaced a block of slum property including Chorley Court (see earlier post) in the 1930s. The pub on the corner of Fontenoy Street was the Red Lion – although my last mention of it is in 1927. The pub seems to have been converted to offices, including the famous solicitors’ partnership of Silverman & Livermore, whose names will be familiar to all students of Liverpool’s criminal history.  The Liverpool Co-operative Society have an entrance in the centre of the block, although the main facade was along Byrom Street (they owned Unity House, which can be seen with two posters of  Winston Churchill – was this in recognition of his death in 1965?). By this date, however, the Co-op was no longer trading. In fact, it is not listed in the 1964 Kelly’s (it is in the 1962 edition), which suggestes the block was being cleared out before demolition. The lamp standard on the left is another of Herbert Rowse’s designs for the Tunnel approaches.

My recent posting on the Gaumont cinema, which I erroneously attributed to Camden Street (the suggestion is that it was The Savoy in Brougham Terrace) brought home to me the ease with which errors can be made and, if not corrected, become established facts. When I started publishing books, I soon realised that there were people out there with specialist knowledge on every subject you could name – but especially transport. Known unkindly as ‘rivet counters’, this body of men (they always are) have a detailed knowledge of their subject that would do a Mastermind contestant proud. A book I published with the Museum (The Liners of Liverpool) made a small number of mistakes, such as ship sailing to the wrong port, that immediately diminished its value as a reference book. So for today’s posting I am going to put up a disclaimer that all the information is from a highly reputable expert.
The line below the Overhead serviced the docks and was operated by British Rail. The locomotive is a 0-4-0 saddle tank shunter, nicknamed a ‘Pug’. Their short wheelbase made them ideal for the sharp curves of the dockland lines. Imagine, today, allowing a train to run freely where pedestrians could cross without any barriers or restrictions. I am not sure when the dock railway ceased to operate – but I am certain I am going to find out very quickly.

In my list of Liverpool ‘grot spots’, this corner of Ranelagh Street would be near the top (along with the rest of the block along Lime Street). My reaction, though, is generated by the lack of care and maintenance rather than the intrinsic quality of the architecture. In fact, looking at how the building was when it first opened, as Peter Robinson’s new store, one can see the boldness and brightness of the architect’s vision. Concrete is not a material that ages well, but the addition of strong colour gives a cohesion and life to the building that is sadly lacking today.
Post-War architecture is slowly coming back into fashion as a new, younger generation looks at it with different eyes. Just as Georgian architecture fell out of favour with the Victorians and Victorian architecture, in turn, was disliked until the 1970s, the modernist movement of the 1950s and 60s has had its years in the shadows. Much that was built in the rush to reconstruct after the War was substandard but there are gems which should be appreciated. I would not go so far as to include this building in Ranelagh Street, but it would certainly look much better if restored to its original colour scheme.

Canada Dock hydraulic tower (photographed 1875)

Kent Square c1935

Goree and Overhead Railway 1947

Cotton Exchange 1907