Streets of Liverpool

First of all, an apology. In my last but one post, I attributed Dickson Terrace to Dickson Street in the heart of docklands. Researching today’s photograph, I realised that Dickson Terrace was actually off Soho Street, a stone’s throw from Scarlet Street. I have corrected the error, which does not change the general context of my post but does significantly shift its geography.
It is clear that both the Dickson Terrace and Scarlet Street photographs were taken at approximately the same time, presumably by a photographer on a press assignment to capture the essence of Liverpool’s slums. Scarlet Street, a short terrace off Mansfield Street near to its junction with St Anne Street, is by no means as ‘desperate’ as many streets around Scotland Road and the houses look relatively well-cared for. What particularly caught my eye were the two children with very strange hats, particularly the small boy on the right who seems to have a pair of shorts on his head.

At first glimpse, just a photograph of a Liverpool tobacconist – in this case 426 Edge Lane. Without the caption on the back, this press photograph would simply be a record of a shop advertising the joy of smoking (“For your throat’s sake – smoke Craven A”). The only clue to another storyline is the man with his back to the camera. Surely, if it was the proud shop owner he would be facing the photographer!
The caption reveals all (or nearly all – because I am missing the conclusion). The date is January 24th, 1939: “A member of Liverpool CID locking up the premises of 426 Edge Lane yesterday, The tobacconist occupier, Thomas Edward Kelly, aged 32, was arrested and charged at Liverpool yesterday with having in his possession four kegs of potassium chlorate. He was remanded in custody.”
On January 16th, the IRA launched a campaign of bombing and sabotage directed at government targets such as post offices, bridges and railway stations. The object was material damage – not civilian deaths, although a number of people were injured. Much of the campaign was targeted on London, although Birmingham and Manchester were affected. In the same year, 17 year-old Brendan Behan, a runner for the IRA, was arrested in Liverpool following bombing in Coventry. He was sentenced to 3 years in Borstal – an experience he used in writing Borstal Boy.
I have not been able to follow-up what happened to Thomas Edward Kelly (I need to spend some time in Liverpool Record Office) but it would seem a major bombing attack, possibly in Liverpool, had been averted.
Once again, there is a fascinating story behind a photograph. Sadly, too often, all we are left with is an image with no obvious thread to follow. A lesson to us all – always caption photographs for a future generation.
Postscript: Many thanks to R Walsh who has posted the following information:
Kelly was charged, with eight other Liverpool men of possessing explosives, weapons and ammunition with intent to endanger life and cause destruction of property. Kelly was later accused of being the adjutant of an IRA cell. Five of the men stood trial at Manchester Assizes on conspiracy to cause explosions. One, Hannon, was found guilty and sentenced to seven years penal servitude. The rest, including Kelly, were found not guilty and discharged.
426 Edge Lane stood one along from the corner of Binns Road, going towards town and just opposite The Barbers.

Wilson Street

Two more photographs from the photographer of Beresford Street and Park Hill Road. The top image is of Wilson Street, which ran parallel to Park Road and between Park Hill Road and South Hill Road. I think we are looking at the grocery shop of Mrs Mary Slade, on the corner of Drysdale Road, as it is the only shop listed on the street.
The second photograph is more of a puzzle. The only E. Welch (the name of the shop-keeper in the photograph) listed in the 1893 Gore’s Directory, is Ellen Welch of 201 Upper Frederick Street – just outside of the Dingle area.
However, no shop is indicated – which seems to suggest a different location. The property is much older than the Dingle properties I have posted, which suggests it is nearer to the town centre, however, so perhaps someone can pinpoint the location more accurately.

This shot of Park Hill Road is by the same amateur photographer who took the photograph of Beresford Road posted last week. The focus of the image appears to be the shop of Ann Young, confectioner and wholesaler of crumpets and muffins, at 64 Park Hill Road, with a young, delivery boy in the doorway. The street looks prosperous and ordered, clearly a respectable neighbourhood. I cannot work out the intentions of the photographer. I will post more of his/her photographs in the next few days and, hopefully, some connection will become obvious to a more sharp-witted reader. The only link appears to be shops – but that is rather a weak guess.
Whatever the reason, it is great to have ‘ordinary’ streets of areas such as the Dingle captured for posterity. The prevailing opinion that such districts were all poverty-stricken is clearly not the case. These are streets outside of the inner-ring of courts and tenements and my 1910 Gore’s Directory lists the next-door neighbours as John Rathbone, police constable (number 66) and Park Hill Higher Grade School (44-62). Other occupations on the street include joiners, a printer, pawnbroker, engine driver, teacher of music and coppersmith – a real solid mix of working-class trades.

I have a strong affection for this bookshop, even though it had disappeared long before I came to Liverpool. (It was demolished to make way for the new St John’s Market). It represents a lost world of retailing – where bookshops would survive happily in a mix of other small shops. Today, the chains have squeezed the life out of these small independents, along with impossibly high rents and rates. We may have more choice but at the cost of individuality and character.
The bookshop sticks in my mind because my old friend, Stan Roberts, shopped there during the 1950s and would buy his books by the pound weight (6p a lb). He stocked up on Gore’s Directories, in particular, which even at their weight were an astute purchase.
As a publisher, I would love more bookshops in the city. When I started publishing in the late 1980s there were over a dozen good outlets (Henry Young, Charles Wilson, William Potter, Hudsons, Central Books among them). Now, apart from News from Nowhere, we have Waterstones (x2), WH Smith (which has almost thrown the towel in regarding local books) and the Book Clearance Centre in St John’s Market (brilliant for cut-price local books). Times have changed! If Waterstones go – it will see off most small independent publishers and it will be no use browsing Amazon for the latest local titles. Perhaps I should have titled the blog A Publisher’s Lament – but it does feel like a Golden Age of publishing is rapidly coming to an end.

When Liverpool’s most important buildings are discussed, it is surprising how often retailing is left out. In Quentin Hughes’s City of Architecture, not a single shop features in his selection – a surprising omission. Cripp’s on Bold Street (now Waterstones), GH Lee on Basnett Street, Lewis’s (one of the better post-war buildings) and Premier Buildings (on the corner of Church Street and Hanover Street) were all worthy of inclusion. However, the shop that should have been in for both architectural and historical significance is Compton House – now home to Marks and Spencer, Joseph Sharples describes it as majestic and of international significance because it was one of the earliest (if not the first) purpose-built department store, finished five years before Bon Marché in Paris.
The store replaced an earlier building destroyed by fire in 1865. Two brothers, William and JR Jeffrey financed a new building, which opened in 1867. In Picton’s words, tragedy struck: “Mr William Jeffrey, the brother and right hand of the principal, was cut off suddenly by apoplexy and JR Jeffrey was left to fight his battle alone. The battle was a losing one.” The receipts of the new shop never met the outgoings and in March 1871, the shutters were closed.
The photograph shows its later reincarnation as Compton Hotel, with William Russell as proprietor. On the ground floor, the shops are Lilly Addinsell (hatter and hosier), JR Cramer & Co., William Hay & Co. and, on the right hand side, Watts & Co., drapers.
In the revised City of Architecture (due next year), Compton House will find its place as one of Liverpool’s great pioneering achievements.

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.

Houghton Street was once a busy street connecting Williamson Square and Clayton Square. It is still there but one side is taken up by St John’s Market and the other by what were George Henry Lee’s and Owen Owens. This is an interesting colour photograph taken just before the buildings were demolished to make way for the new market. There is not a lot I can add to my previous comments about the destruction of this area. Even the landlords of St John’s appear to have thrown in the towel and have abandoned the complete refit indefinitely.

I can remember that when the precinct caught fire (in the 1980s – my memory fails me), architects gathered at their club in Bluecoat Chambers and toasted its demise. They celebrated too soon. Unfortunately the fire damage was repairable and the Market continued to trade. There are a few other buildings I would raise a glass to if they were to be consumed by fire (no casualties of course): the black glass buildings on Mann Island and St John’s Market topping the list.

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.

I have just returned from a few days in the North East, including a day spent wandering around Newcastle. Walking past Eldon Square, once one of Europe’s finest squares, it seems inconceivable that a magnificent Georgian townscape could be so ruthlessly destroyed for a concrete replacement. Much of the town centre was the work of architect John Dobson, the Newcastle equivalent of the Fosters (father and son) who dominated Liverpool’s emerging townscape in the first half of the nineteenth century. The Fosters had similar grandiose plans to reshape Liverpool and were responsible for many of the public buildings including the Custom House, the School for the Blind, the Oratory and St James’s Cemetery, St Luke’s Church, St Andrew’s (Rodney Street) and St John’s Market. The Market, regarded by the much-travelled artist James Audobon as the finest he had seen, was widely admired for its fine Classical detail, advanced lighting and engineering. Sadly, its fate was, like Eldon Square, to be replaced by an ugly concrete shopping centre which, like its Newcastle equivalent, had nothing in keeping with its surroundings.