Streets of Liverpool

St Philip Neri, Catherine Street

St Francis Xavier, Salisbury Street

St Patrick, Park Place

Three more fine churches, starting with the relatively unknown St Philip Neri, on Catherine Street. Designed by PS Gilby and built between 1914-21, it has a striking Byzantine interior. The church is perhaps better known for its Spanish garden, which was built in the 1950s by the incumbent Dr John Garvey.
St Francis Xavier was originally part of an extensive group of religious buildings which included the former SFX School (now part of Liverpool Hope University). Built to the designs of John Scholes in 1848, it is built in stone in an Early English style of Gothic. The Lady Chapel adjoining the church was added in 1888.
St Patrick’s (1821-27) in contrast, is a strict Neoclassical church. Designed by John Slater, its exterior is lightened by a statue of St Patrick, which came from the St Patrick Insurance Company in Dublin. The huge altar painting is by Nicaise de Keyser of Antwerp (c1834).
Three very fine churches which have survived shrinking congregations and all the other issues facing inner city churches. Two of the biggest problems – vandalism and theft – unfortunately mean that these gems are rarely open to the public, which is a sad loss for a city trying to build up its image as a cultural destination. Open Heritage weeks are fine in a very limited way – but we really should be looking at a more comprehensive policy of opening up such important buildings on a regular basis.

St John the Baptist, Tuebrook

Princes Road Synagogue

St Agnes and St Pancras, Ullet Road

The second half of the nineteenth century witnessed an astonishing growth in the number of churches across Liverpool. As the population expanded, so did the number of places of worship to accommodate all religious persuasions. Many were quite modest but others were built to the highest standards. The twentieth century has not been kind to this Victorian religiosity. Churches are notoriously difficult to convert to other uses and are expensive to maintain. I have mentioned a few of the gems that disappeared through war, vandalism and redevelopment in previous posts but, fortunately some of the finest churches survived including the three featured today. I have concentrated on the magnificent roofs with the medievalism of George Bodley’s St John’s at Tuebrook (1868-70) contrasting with the decorated vaulting of W & G Audsley’s Synagogue of 1874 and the stone vaulting of John Pearson’s St Agnes and St Pancras in Ullet Road (1883-85). Three of Britain’s finest church architects and three very different styles – their survival something to celebrate.

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.

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.

St Mary’s C of E Junior Boys School, Archer Street/Westminster Road, 1976

Lambeth Road Secondary Modern School, 1976

St Alphonsus RC Primary School, Stanley Road, 1976

Here are another three ‘lost’ schools. I never ceased to be amazed by what you can find out on the internet. Out there are an army of enthusiasts who are putting in hours of unpaid research to keep us informed about their particular interests. One such site which is a mine of information is http://liverpool-schools.co.uk

St Mary’s, Archer Street, opened in 1844 and was still listed in 1911. The other two schools are more recent. St Alphonsus opened in 1952 but was merged with St Alban’s and St Gerard’s in the 1990s. Lambeth Road Secondary Modern closed in 1982 when it merged with John Hamilton Secondary School. As I look at the photographs, I cannot help feel how badly society has served children in such inner city areas. There is hardly a blade of grass in any shot and the buildings exude soullessness and dreariness. I taught for a short while at Archbishop Whiteside RC Secondary on Silvester Street as a supply teacher in the early 1970s and the sense of failure permeating out of the place was almost tangible. However bright a child was, they had little chance of succeeding in such negative places.

St John’s RC Secondary Modern, Fountains Road, 1976

Birchfield Road Primary School

St Vincent RC Primary School, Norfolk Street, 1975

In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned that, as a book publisher, one of the most neglected subjects is schools. This has puzzled me because it is one common experience we all share. In recent years, I have published books on pubs, cinemas, churches, railway stations and many other aspects of Liverpool life (or afterlife if you count all the ghost books), but schools have hardly merited a mention. I have thrown out this challenge already but is there anyone out there who can make a decent stab at the subject?

I cannot add much about today’s selection (there are more to follow) except for St Vincent’s on Norfolk Street because I can see its site from my office door. The main body of the church has been demolished but there is part of the school still standing on Brick Street, even though it is covered in corrugated iron and not recognisable. I met Tommy Walsh recently. Tommy a leading figure of the Liverpool Irish community (he is now in his 80s) was born in nearby Blundell Street and attended St Vincent, so it much have been in operation up to the war. The area was very much an Irish Catholic community and the school was at its centre. Pat O’Mara’s Autobiography of a Liverpool Slummy creates a vivid picture of the area, although he went to St Peter’s, Seel Street. Interestingly, my offices are on the site of Pat’s house, which was pulled down in the 1960s.