There are quite a few Liverpool institutions I have missed out on over the years. The Overhead Railway had long gone by the time I arrived in 1970. I also missed out on the old Cavern. It was still there but no longer a place at the cutting edge of music. I did get to look inside the Sailors’ Home before they pulled it down and there is still the opportunity to see a Grand National. Sadly, the Grafton is one place I will not get to visit. It had crossed my mind from time to time to take a camera and take a few shots but it closed down before I made a decision.
I am disappointed with myself because the Grafton and club life in general should be recorded for posterity. Such places played an important part in the lives of many people and it is a shame there is not an archive of photographs to draw on. This particular image was taken in June,1956 by a Detroit News photographer. I am not sure what the news angle was – possibly the lives of GI’s in Britain after the War (there were US servicemen based at Burtonwood). The couple in the shot appear to be deep in conversation rather than dancing but there are no obvious clues as to why the photograph was taken.
It’s that time of year again! The Daily Express has proclaimed a new Ice Age is coming our way, so it must be true. Anyway, the first snow of this winter is expected in the next 24 hours, which will be welcome news for all the clothes shops with their overstocks of winter coats.
Will we have a winter like that of 1895, when the Mersey froze? The photograph taken at Egremont (I think) shows some serious ice in the river. The log of HMS Conway, moored at Rock Ferry, revealed that “28 Feb 1895 The Mersey was frozen from shore to shore.” It was reported that it was possible to walk from Liverpool to Birkenhead, although whether anyone was foolhardy enough to attempt it is not recorded.
The freeze lasted over two weeks and an iceberg some 12 feet high and 60 feet wide was photographed in the River Dee.
Every now and then, I post a photograph that I could write reams about. Today’s image is a case in point, revealing a bit of Liverpool’s ‘hidden’ and less savoury history. We tend to select those aspects of our past that accentuate the positive, blacker incidents are usually overlooked in the history books.
On 7 May 1915, the Cunarder RMS Lusitania was sunk by a German U-boat off the tip of southern Ireland killing 1,198 of the 1,959 people aboard. The sinking was a key moment in the First World War, influencing the United States to abandon their neutrality. Controversy has raged over whether Lusitania was a legitimate war target because she was carrying weapons and munitions. In a previous post, I mention the Baralong affair when the British merchant ship flying the flag of neutral USA forced the crew of a U-boat to surrender and then executed them, provoking one of the major diplomatic incidents of the War. My grandfather was a crew member but had nothing to do with the executions, although he was unrepentent about the action, which happened 3 months after the Lusitania’s sinking. The Baralong’s crew had seen the aftermath, with hundreds of corpses of men, women and children lined up along the quayside at Queenstown, so their pent-up anger could be understood to some extent.
Back in Liverpool, the news of the Lusitania’s sinking was met with an equally violent reaction. The Liverpool Echo reported rioting that broke out on May 11th. ‘A large pork shop at the corner of Smithdown Road and Arundel Avenue had been absolutely wrecked, all the windows had been smashed and the stock commandeered or thrown into the street. Women hurled strings of sausages at one another and one woman from a neighbouring street went down on her knees and scrubbed the pavement with a joint of pork. Other women went home with their aprons full of pork and bacon. After sacking the shops, the invaders went into the living room upstairs and spread destruction …’
In The Autobiography of a Liverpool Slummy, Pat O’Mara’s account makes fascinating reading and captures the mood of both anger and opportunism that swept the mob.
‘That night Freddie and I, clad in our American tailored suits, started for a dance over Paddy’s Market in St Martin’s Hall. We never attended it, however. Before entering the Hall, we walked around Scotland Road listening to the cries of the women whose husbands had gone down with the ‘Lusy’ and we heard the bitter threats against Germany and anything with a German name. We walked down Bostock Street, where practically every blind was drawn in token of a death .All these little houses were occupied by Irish coal-trimmers and firemen and sailormen on the Lusitania … On the corner of Scotland Road, ominous gangs were gathering – men and women, very drunk and very angry. Something was afoot; we could sense that and, like good slummy boys, we crowded around eager to help in any disturbance. Suddenly, something crashed up the road near Ben Jonson Street, followed in turn by another terrific crash of glass. We ran up the road. A pork butcher’s had had its front window knocked in with a brick and a crowd of men and women were wrecking the place – everything suggestive of Germany was being smashed to pieces.’
Pat O’Mara then left to go back to his home territory in Park Street to continue the ‘fun’, helping destroy Mr Cook’s butchers shop, for although Mr Cook was a patriotic Yorkshireman, his sin was to sell pork. (Pat O’Mara adds that he began to get sick from all the free sausage he had been eating).
His account is a rare and excellent eye-witness account of a mob in action written by the hand of an active participant.
The photograph shows how widespread the rioting was. It is an American Press Agency image and is of the Britannia Hotel at 283 Breck Road, on the corner with Coniston Road. My 1910 Gore’s Directory has Charles C. Bobbie as the licensee – hardly a German name but he may not have been there in 1915.
There is plenty more to add to this story but I suggest reading Pat O’Mara to get the full flavour of those incendiary nights.
Two photographs from a family album. Taken in May, 1899, they illustrate a probably typical outing to Stanley Park. The top photograph shows a busy boating lake with everyone dressed up in their Sunday best. The young man, possibly the photographer on a self-timer, poses with top hat and cane in the bottom photo.
I visited Stanley Park a few years ago, intending to take a few shots for a book on architecture. After only a few steps, I turned round and returned to the car having caught sight of a large group of young men with unfriendly-looking dogs hanging out around the dilapidated, seemingly beyond repair Conservatory. Not a place to wander with an expensive camera hung around my neck.
Forward to last Summer and what a change! The restoration of the pavilions, terraces and gardens have brought the park back from the brink. With a welcoming café in the restored conservatory, the whole aspect of the park, overlooking the Mersey, is a revelation. Stanley Park was opened in 1870, two years after Newsham Park and two years before Sefton Park. Away from the salubrious areas that allowed impressive villas to be built to offset the cost as was the case with both Newsham and Sefton Parks, Stanley Park was somewhat the neglected link in the chain of green spaces that the Victorians constructed to give the people of the town a taste of the countryside. In the wake of the cholera and typhoid epidemics of the 1840s and 50s, Liverpool had pioneered public parks and their survival and development is a magnificent part of our heritage which, as the photographs show, has been appreciated for the best part of 150 years.
Peacock Inn by William Gawin Herdman
In earlier blogs, I have lamented the scarcity of pre-1880 photographs of Liverpool. I have the odd image but they hardly represent a substantial body of work. However, the occasional early gem surfaces from time to time and I am grateful to Coin Weekes for allowing me to post this fascinating photograph of the Peacock Inn, which once stood on Park Road, near to High Park Street. Once thought to have been the residence of the keeper of the Ancient Park of Toxteth when it was a royal hunting park, it was probably constructed in the early seventeenth century. Judging by the top hats and also the dress worn by the girl on the right, I reckon the photograph dates to about 1870. Why the group is gathered is not clear but it is the earliest photograph of a Liverpool pub I have come across. By way of contrast, I have also reproduced an earlier painting of The Peacock by WG Herdman.
The building was of a style once common in Liverpool. The artist Brierley painted many such cottages in the 1830s but all were demolished in the town centre with the last one surviving well into the first half of the twentieth century.
Occasionally I post a photograph that really does not need too much text. The year is 1910 and seven boys are lined up for the photographer (there is an eighth boy half-hidden behind them). This is at the height of Liverpool’s prosperity. The Port of Liverpool building had just opened, the Cathedral was underway and the Liver Building scheduled to be completed the following year. Liverpool had more millionaires per capita than nearly any other city in the world – yet here are barefooted boys dressed in rags. The recent demonstrations about the unfair distribution of wealth throughout Europe and the United States bring into sharp focus the inequalities bred by capitalism – none more so than in today’s poignant image.
A mother walking with her children through a derelict docklands. Like a frame from one of the ‘kitchen sink’ films of the early 1960s, it brilliant captures the dying moments of a once-bustling port. I am not sure about the location. My first thoughts were the granaries which once dominated the southern end of the docks but, on closer examination, Birkenhead docks might be the answer.
My reason for using the photograph, apart from its dramatic quality, is to illustrate the dilemma faced by the City Council in deciding on the merits of Peel Holding’s plans for the Liverpool Waters scheme.
The report that the Unesco team was potentially minded to withdraw World Heritage status should the scheme go ahead without serious modifications raised a storm of adverse comments on the Liverpool Echo forum. The consensus seemed to point to Liverpool going the way of development and foregoing the hard won World Heritage accolade. (Of course there were the usual anonymous posters suggesting banning all Unesco officials from Liverpool permanently – but that, sadly, is the norm of internet forums). The basic argument is whether outsiders have the right to challenge Liverpool’s future by imposing conditions on any future development. Peel is seen as representing a golden future with the promise of thousands of jobs and the badly needed regeneration of north Liverpool.
In my opinion, there is a different scenario. Peel have already stated that their plan is a 50 year plan – hardly immediate development. The time scale makes no sense if plans are being put forward now that cannot be fundamentally changed (which is Peel’s position – stating they have already compromised on the number of high rise buildings and that the economics of the development will not add up otherwise). So far, the whole plan is speculative – no major commercial parties have been announced who might underpin Liverpool Waters. All we have seen are fairly wild artist impressions of what might be. In other words, is there any substance to Peel’s case or is it just a case of getting planning permission for the old-fashioned carte blanche approach to planning (the kind that blighted Liverpool in the 1960s and 70s – allowing whole areas from St John’s Market, Derby Square/South Castle Street and the Georgian quarter around the University to be removed wholesale)?
Of course most of Peel’s land is already cleared, which is an important distinction, but should we just sit back and let them do what they think is best (for themselves or the city?).
What is essential is that Liverpool gets it right and it must take the necessary time to make an informed decision. If Liverpool Waters is a 50 year plan, what is the problem in having a public inquiry and allowing anyone who is concerned to see Peel’s proposals in detail. I have never heard of a development planned over half a century before – even over a decade there are significant changes in economic circumstances to say nothing about architectural tastes. The argument must be about a sustainable and sensitive development that brings back Stanley Dock and other important features into proper focus. Skyscrapers are not necessarily the answer. Very few are architectural masterpieces, most are uninspiring filing cabinets in the sky (especially in Manhatten, London or Shanghai). The Unesco officials are right to be concerned – Liverpool’s heritage is too important to be railroaded by speculative developers.
I reckon that one way to double traffic to my blog is to mention Everton (well – increase numbers slightly!). I’m sorry to disappoint any football fans, though, for today’s photograph is a rather striking image of a policeman looking over his beat from the heights of Everton. Netherfield Road is below but I cannot decipher the street name on the side of the corner building.
The city he is observing is about to be dramatically changed.The closely-packed terraces are about to make way for that critically flawed high rise housing policy which destroyed well-established neighbourhoods for very little gain. The tower blocks have largely gone and now parkland rolls down the hill to Great Homer Street. Visually a huge improvement but I am sure there are many readers out there who will look at the disappeared landscape with more than a touch of regret for a lost community.
Picture Post on Liverpool available in Waterstones, WH Smith, Book Clearance Centre etc. and on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/offer-listing/1908457058/ref=dp_olp_new?ie=UTF8&qid=1321561830&sr=1-1&condition=new
Two photographs of the same block on Brythen Street, with the Playhouse clearly visible in the first photograph to fix the location. A bit of a pub crawler’s dream – with The Old Royal next to Quinn’s Oyster Bar, Roberts (bird dealers), The Dart and The Old Dive on the opposite corner.
I have already posted a number of photographs around the Williamson Square/St John’s Market area. The destruction of the network of streets and squares to make way for the new market, road widening and (abandoned) civic centre scheme was one of Liverpool’s most significant architectural losses. My reason for resurrecting my opinion is the visit of Unesco officials to determine the threat posed to Liverpool’s World Heritage Status by Peel Holdings’ proposed Liverpool Waters development.
It is reassuring that the issue is being discussed at this stage. In the 1960s, the heritage lobby would have been brushed aside as an irrelevance. Today, the balance has shifted but is Liverpool Waters a threat or a necessary, even essential, scheme to create a future for the city? I am fairly clear where I stand. Unlike the 1960s redevelopment, which removed over a century of character and history, the Peel proposal is on derelict land which has been vacant for decades. The physical integrity of Pier Head is not threatened, the key issue is the visual impact (which has already been badly compromised by the Mann Island development). I cannot say I am a great fan of skyscrapers unless they are of a very high architectural quality – and most in this country are not. I prefer the human scale of smaller buildings in a more intimate setting where a restored Stanley Dock could take pride of place. Clearly Peel will have a strategy that will accommodate revisions to their plans and I hope that the public can have some input. Development at all cost is not the issue – even with 12,000 jobs at stake – but what future Liverpool has got without an ambitious plan.
On Friday, my book on Picture Post on Liverpool will be in the shops. It contains a fascinating collections of photographs, published and unpublished, taken by photographers of the famous but now defunct magazine.
During my research, I made many unexpected discoveries. The most interesting story was that of an article on Liverpool’s slums that was written by Fyfe Robertson in 1956 (who many older readers will remember for his dry humour and sharp reporting on television). He was supported by his future son-in-law, photographer Thurston Hopkins. I can find no trace of Robertson’s journalism on Liverpool as the article was rather scandalously ‘spiked’ by the magazine’s proprietor, Edward Hulton, after Liverpool councillors (presumably Jack Braddock and others) complained that the impending article was a slur on the city. So the feature never appeared but the photographs survived (now in Getty Images archive for whose permission to reproduce today’s image I am grateful). And what a magnificent series they are! All unpublished, they give a shocking insight into the real poverty that was so evident in many neighbourhoods.
Remarkably, Thurston Hopkins is still going strong at 98. (He actually apologised for taking time in replying to my questions because he was so busy!).
One photograph he particularly remembered was of the young girl in a bed covered with newspaper. The girl’s grandmother had tipped him off (another stunning photograph of an old woman in an alley – ‘like out of a Rembrandt painting’ as Thurston described her). He was accused later of having staged the photograph but he said it was real enough. Every day, the girl’s mother would cover the bed with newspaper to keep the rain from ruining the bedclothes.
How many others lived in such appalling conditions? No wonder the Council wanted the article buried.
The book Picture Post on Liverpool is available from Waterstones, WH Smiths, the Book Clearance Centre and other shops from Friday, price £7.99
Available from Amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/1908457058
