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The site of Myrtle Gardens has an interesting history as these three previously unpublished photographs show.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:

Walton Gaol 1974

Walton Gaol 1930

If a gaol was to be built on your street, you would probably care little for the architecture – you would just want to move to another place. Prisons stir up deep emotions and it is unlikely that one would be built in the heart of a residential community. Nevertheless, there is no reason why prison buildings should not have architectural merit. Architect Charles Peirce and John Weightman, the Corporation Surveyor, realised the need to reassure the community and their castellated Norman fortress (of 1855) certainly suggests military strength. Unfortunately, in remodelling the prison c1974, the outer fortified gatehouse was demolished to make way for an ugly brick bastion topped by a curved metal string course. A shame, from an architectural perspective but I am sure most people would not consider the reshaping of the prison with much sentiment other than that of relief for the additional security provided by the new wall.
Interestingly, it is apparently against the law to take a photograph of any HM Prison. I was stopped from taking a shot of the new exterior wall by a prison officer, who politely asked me to put my camera away.

Who would have believed 50 years ago that there would be no Tate and Lyle in Liverpool and that the company would no longer be in the sugar business? Last week’s news that the sugar business had been sold brings to an end a company history that started in Liverpool in 1859, when Henry Tate became a partner in a small sugar refinery in Manesty’s Lane (just off Hanover Street). My own business career started back in 1973 in a warehouse owned by Tate and Lyle on the site of the original refiners (although the warehouse was built in the 1870s and demolished in the 1980s).
The history of sugar in Liverpool is, I imagine, likely to cause more than a few readers to stifle a yawn – but, pay attention at the back, as teachers used to say in school, it really is an interesting part of the city’s history. Along with tobacco and cotton, the wealth of the city was built on the import of goods from the New World. Sugar had its own spin-offs. The famous Everton toffee mentioned in an earlier post was the fledgling start of a much bigger confectionary industry (Barker and Dobson amongst others) as well as providing the basic ingredient for the massive Hartley’s jam business.
The Love Lane Refinery was completed in 1873 and in its time employed thousands from the surrounding Vauxhall district. Other local refineries such as Farrie’s and Macfie’s could not compete with Tate’s and were absorbed into the sugar empire. Henry Tate, himself, was a benefactor on a significant scale – building the Hahnemann Hospital on Hope Street, providing the funds for Liverpool University’s library block, as well as generous donations to the Royal Infirmary and Liverpool Institute. His biggest gift was to found the Tate Gallery in London – now with its Liverpool offshoot. Ironically, the opening of the Tate Liverpool came only a few years after the closure of Love Lane in that brutal period in the early 1980s which also saw other great names including British American Tobacco pull the plug on their Liverpool bases.

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 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.

John Alexander Brodie (1858-1934) deserves a chapter to himself in the story of Liverpool’s growth as a city. The City Engineer, he had a creative mind – responsible for ‘inventing’ goal nets to stop the disputes that broke out when there were just goalposts and a crossbar – he was also the man who created a modern road network in Liverpool that is the envy of cities across the country. A visionary, he foresaw the need to accommodate the motorcar at a time when car ownership was restricted to a few wealthy enthusiasts (Brodie included). Through a cunning strategy of buying up outlying plots of greenfield land, he was able to steer through the construction of Queen’s Drive and the radial roads into the city centre. The magnificent dual carriageways, many now tree-lined, are part of his legacy, along with such initiatives as creating a photographic record of his department’s work (now in the Liverpool Records Office) and the use of pre-cast concrete as a building material.

Historically, he should be better recognised, He realised that the need to provide low-cost housing to replace the appalling slums of Liverpool required a fresh approach – and came up with the concept of casting panels of concrete which could be quickly erected in situ. His first experimental houses were in Eldon Street in 1903. The photographs above of the front and rear elevations were taken in 1964 just prior to demolition. (There is one surviving example – Walton stables – on the corner of Rice Lane and Queens Drive – although modified, the block is very much intact). Sadly for Brodie (and Liverpool), the system of using factory-produced panels failed because of trade union opposition. Other countries were less resistant to change – and in the 1960s Liverpool was importing panels from France made under the Camus system to construct the Shiel Park flats.

Looking at the photographs, the result is interesting but not convincing. They personify the worst aspects of concrete as a building material – somewhat crude with a tendency to discolour and stain in an unattractive way. Whether they were pleasant places to live is another matter – but the photographs are a final record of an innovation which Liverpool could have developed and pioneered.

David Lewis Hostel and Theatre

Great George Street, 1980

Two more photographs taken by Stan Roberts. Somewhat ironically, he has dated both photographs 1st April 1980.

This was no April Fool’s joke, unfortunately, just the end of a fine institution that had served the city well for over 70 years. My recollection was that the street and hostel had been cleared several years earlier – but Stan was never wrong. One of my earliest memories of Liverpool was going to a meeting at the University Settlement on Nile Street, which was one of the streets that ran up the hill from Great George Street to the Cathedral. The building was part of a shabby Georgian terrace but it had life and character.

David Lewis was one of those larger than life characters who illuminated Liverpool life in the nineteenth century. He had arrived in Liverpool as a 16 year-old and went on to establish Lewis’s Stores as a household name. Deeply religious and philanthropic, he left considerable funds in his will towards charitable purposes (he had already helped fund the Northern Hospital). The David Lewis Hotel (or Hostel) was built in 1906, initially as a place for seafarers. It had sports facilities and a theatre, which staged concerts for the local community (apparently it could seat 1000 people). It doubled up as a cinema, gaining its licence in 1914. I remember it as a community venue in the early 1970s when it was running as a successful youth club. Its fire certificate expired in 1977 and, as the photograph shows, its demolition followed in 1980. Another fine building to add to the lengthy ‘Lost Liverpool’ list.

Walton Road 1976

Great Mersey Street from Stanley Road 1976

I have previously mentioned some of the dedicated photographers who took it upon themselves to document the streets of Liverpool. One name I have not mentioned is Stan Roberts. I knew Stan well. He was a mine of information on anything Liverpool and had built up a magnificent collection of maps and books before his death a few years back. Stan only started taking photographs seriously in the 1960s but he made up for lost time over the next twenty years photographing thousands of street scenes like these two.

I particularly like the idea of Walton Road being Marlboro Country. As the advert says: ‘Come to where the flavour is’.  The photo of Great Mersey Street reinforces my earlier post about Georgian buildings. These were some of the last terraces left after the destruction of the 1950s and 60s. They were part of a solid belt of similar housing that once covered the city from Dingle to Everton and beyond. Thanks to photographers like Stan – whose work will feature regularly in my blog – we do have a valuable record, even if it is of decay and impending destruction.

I recently had a discussion with Mike Chitty of the Wavertree Society in which two old chestnuts came up. The first, that Liverpool has more listed buildings than any other city outside of London, simply is not true according to Mike. That honour goes to Bradford – and he has checked it up on the DofE lists. I must admit to being surprised by his revelation – but the information is there in black and white

The other much quoted statement is that Liverpool has more Georgian buildings than Bath. The source for this was Micky King, Conservation Officer for Liverpool in the 1970s, who, when asked in a press interview why Liverpool’s architecture was so special, replied with a soundbite he knew would catch their interest – but without any grounding in fact. I have always had this in the back of my mind, having visited Bath fairly regularly over the years. Bath is solidly Georgian (true Georgian – not Regency or early Victorian buildings in the Georgian style like much of Liverpool). Mike Chitty argued that Liverpool might have the edge – it was a much larger city than Bath which had a population of 34,000 in 1801 against Liverpool’s 77,000. By 1851, Bath had grown slightly to 43,000 but Liverpool had exploded to 376,000. So the issue is still unresolved. I reckon that Bath probably scrapes ahead – although that would not have been the case in the 1960s when fine terraces such as this one in the photograph were routinely pulled down. In the case of Bedford Street North, it was to make way for the University Sports Centre – which I am sure could have easily have been built on a less sensitive site.