One man goes to town
Liverpool, Wednesday, April 11, 2012.
Found this story in one of my old notebooks. It's about a day out in Liverpool eight years ago.
I catch the number 10 for town from outside the off licence
on East Prescot Road.
As luck would have it, the conductor was George. Always had a smile and one-liners at the ready. "Anyone want to pay twice" was a favourite as he squeezed down the aisle.
At the London Road stop in town, for T. J. Hughes store, George would call out: "Shop Lifters Paradise", and receive a good natured slap from chuckling passengers getting off.
I alight two stops later, in Queen’s Square.
I.m checking out a few of my old haunts, pick up the
vibes.
Walk via the 1960s-built St John’s Shopping Precinct, calling in
at Model Zone – full of models of course.
I’m keen to see what trains they may have.
Nothing for me, as it happens.
The shopping precinct replaced the lofty Victorian covered
retail market demolished in the name of progress in 1964.
It was one of the first and the largest fully enclosed
roofed market halls when it opened in 1822.
I have only a vague memory of it now. The front façade of the building was rather
austere. Not very attractive to my mind.
But it hid the real gem from the street, the market hall itself. I looked up the facts of the build. Discovered it featured 16
stone-trimmed classical arched window bays and the roof was supported by 116 interior
cast-iron pillars.
It was a huge lofty trading space, full of bustle, the air
filled with the aroma of fresh veg, fruit and flowers.
In the Sixties many such places were seen as old fashioned. The call was for new buildings to represent the modern age. So many old places were demolished
without ceremony and replaced with the simplicity and clean lines of concrete, as
architects determined to brighten the place up with a modern building, in this case a garish contrast to what stood before.
Some of the changes were not so well received.
When the new market caught fire many Liverpudlians expressed their regret that the fire service saved the building.
For me it felt like dead air in that place. No energy. I sense that loss whenever I walk into WHSmith today, which takes away my will to live.
It's all to do with positive and negative ions, the former being bad for our health the latter good. The science underpinning this is fascinating and this walk about town is not the place for it, on this occasion.
Except to say that pollutants given off by many modern materials used in buildings and by electrical equipment deplete the high density ionization in the air which is crucial to our well being. This probably explains why those pinned to the mobile phones all day look miserable and only half-awake.
I redress the balance by going a for bike ride in fresh air.
Liverpudlians can dose up by frequent visits to the Pier Head and the bracing Mersey.
Meanwhile, back to the dusty city streets. No dead air there.
I recall a TV documentary about Liverpool comedian Ken Dodd in which he was filmed surrounded by chattering fans, signing autographs near Williamson Square. "And what's your name, "he asked one lady. "Eileen" she replied (pronouncing her name, I Lean).
"To the right or to the left", was Dodd's quick response.
Here's Lime Street which besides the magnificent train station also features two splendid pubs - the Vines and The Crown. Both hotels. I recall their opulent interiors where masterpieces in craftsmanship.
Just like the more famous Philharmonic pub in Hope Street, a short walk up Mount Pleasant.
Your spirits lift the moment you step inside those places, before you even reach the bar.
Some of course had too much spirit in them and would be required to leave.
I was in a bus queue once when a customer was being pushed out of the door by a barman, shouting "Gerrout".
The bus queue all turned their heads to see the kerfuffle. One elderly lady shouted out gleefully; Oooh, a bolshy barman." and we all laughed.
Someone always, always will have something to say in Liverpool for the slightest reason. Failing that, your eyes will meet in silent acknowledgement of the event, whatever it was. Maybe someone dropping a shopping bag! You're never alone even when alone.
One man in a newspaper piece explained why Lime Street peaked his interest every time he walked that way.
He noted that between the two pubs at either end of this section of Lime Street there were number of premises, including a small cinema and a bar, which I think was called the American Bar, plus maybe there was a tobbacanist?
But he could never be sure in which order they fell, whether he could come upon the bar first and then the cinema and the tobbacanist, or was it the other way around.
And that, to him, was key. Because for him, the moment you knew exactly which order they appeared the street would be predictable and therefore no longer interesting.
I liked that.
On we go, to walk by Blackler’s on Elliot Street. Blackers was once a big
fashion store, famous for its lavish Father Christmas Grotto.
When I was a trainee production assistant for Randall’s Advertising Agency on Church
Street Blackler's was one of their clients.
So I would regularly visit the store, taking advertising proofs for
the buyers to check.
Blackler’s, like many major Liverpool Stores – Owen Owen and
Lewis’s - is now closed. The building remains, occupied by several outlets,
including the pub, the Richard John Blackler, owned by Wetherspoon, paying homage to its former life.
They celebrate the founder, with large photographs of the store as it was.
I wonder what happened to the attractive atrium, allowing
shoppers to gaze upwards to the two galleries above and ascend to the first on a central staircase. Gone, I suppose.
Opposite is Yates Wine Lodge. I remember one day how a well-oiled customer staggered out into the fresh air with the urgent need to prop himself up against the wall outside. But even that proved too difficult. Gradually his knees would buckle and he would slide down the wall and only with a mighty effort would he slowly hoist himself back upright, only to slide slowly down again, head nodding up and down and to the left and right before falling to his chest, his limp arms dangling by his side.
It was a losing battle. Eventually a police van turned up and the officers stood by for a while, bemused and observing his plight.
After several more performances, the officers brought down the curtain on this street entertainment, and ushered the fellow into the back of the police van.
On I go, up Bold Street, to the very top, for coffee in
Tabac.
Refreshed I continue past the bombed relic of St Luke’s Church, a scar from the Second World War when German bombers targeted the nearby docks but often flattened wide areas of the city miles from there. For years large swathes land lay waste across the city.
Then right turn into Seel Street, where the Blue Angel Rock club
looks unchanged, outwardly at least, in the 40 years since I last stepped into
its dark interior to have my hearing bashed by rock bands.
China Town is around the corner, celebrated with a beautiful
Chinese Gateway of dragons and serpents in bright yellows, gold’s, reds and
blues across the roadway.
Into Duke Street, then right turn to thread my way back to Bold
Street, once home to Cripps and other high fashion stores. Pit posh, back then, was Bold Street.
Today, there’s a Bohemian feel to the street, with
specialist bookshops, varied cafes, a fine artists shop. On I go, down to
Church Street, one of the main shopping streets, pedestrianised now and better for it, the sound of people's voices happily replacing that of traffic.
The times they are a changin’
I note the changing face of the city in the four decades since I left. Many older buildings remain. But many have come down.
I think our early years are often the most impressionable. During this time the illusion of your home
town is one of permanence.
The face of the city presented to your eyes remains
unchanging in all but small ways.
This is how it will always be, you imagine. Well, some places don't change while others parts do.
Even rock solid structures can be removed without trace
– Central Station for instance.
Replaced with a tacky modern shopping centre, to compliment the dodgy build which replaced St John's Market Hall a couple of hundred yards away.
Permanence is an illusion.
So it is old streets become modernised.
The old disappeats, except for some buildings of historical
merit, we hope.
They remain, lodged among the new.
These step changes in the look of a road, of a whole area,
combine over years to transform the whole.
And then there are major changes which completely transform places. Such as, I imagine, when
St George’s Hall was built in the 1800s, for instance, a neo-classical grade 1
listed building.
What a splendid sight this is now for passengers emerging from Lime Street Station opposite.
Yet when Lime Street was opened in 1836, the vista greeting
arriving passengers was one of green fields! The city had yet to spread that
far from the river front. There was no
St George’s Hall! No big iron casts of Lions guarding the imposing pile.
 |
Lime Street Station.
|
Building work on St George’s Hall began six years later, in
1842, and it opened to the public in 1854. And the grassy area behind it was
transformed into gardens with pathways and seating overlooking the city gradually extending its reach.
Out of those same green fields to flank and complement St
Georges Hall sprang William Brown Street,
the Walker Art Gallery, the
museum and The Crown Court. The whole vista of this impressive pile gave rise to Liverpool becoming known as the Florence of the North.
 |
The splendor of St Georges Hall.
|
Some 90 years later, a few 100 yards away, a giant hole
became the Kingsway entrance to the magnificent engineering feat, the Mersey Tunnel, which opened in 1936.
Meanwhile, dring my time, on the waterfront, the Albert Dock development brought derelict, historic riverside warehouses and dock back to a different life.
Albert Dock is now complimented by Liverpool’s latest
development, the Liverpool One shopping area
which has transformed a bomb site
into a 21st century pastime – shopping and eating out.
Everton Football club have a supporters shop here. The address: Everton 2 Liverpool 1.
Geddit?
It's all nicely done. Up the steps is a small park with a pathway leading directly to the Albert Dock across land which had lain waste since the War.
For me, reflecting back on 40 years, the Albert Dock and
Liverpool One are perhaps the two major developments to have dramatically,
changed the face and character of the city during my time.
Subtle changes
But smaller changes also occur, and always, somewhere, a treasure has been allowed to remain.
I notice the changes. But to younger people this is how it has always looked.
Until they too observe, over time, the slow, gradual,
unstoppable, subtle changes to the same canvas, this picture in their minds.
But I must press on, for lunch in the attractive bistro at
the Bluecoat Chambers off Church Street. Built in the early 18th century as a charity school, The Bluecoat building presents three sides to a gated courtyard and opens out to a small garden at the rear.
It was “improved” during my years of absence, and slightly spoilt, to my mind. The old, musty book shop has gone. And the ramshackle garden at the rear, made
tidy – in other words, stripped of its character.
Still, it’s a nice place to sit, all the same. The lovely fabric of the building is well maintained.
And the craft shops adjacent always a pleasure to visit. Mum
bought me a nice China tea cup there.
And I bought some nice egg cups.
On I go again, into Church Street, once choked with traffic but now pedestrianized and so much better for it.
At the cross roads I join the traffic again, into Paradise Street briefly, left into narrow streets leading to once dingy Mathew Street, to
the site of the Cavern Club, famous for spawning the Beatles. I recall going
there once, to the damp cellars with their walls running wet with condensation.
This was in the late Sixties. The Beatles had left town by
then, for London and stardom.
I joined a queue in Mathew Street. The doorman was being
selective, only allowing in those judged to be properly dressed and turning
away those who were not. So I removed my tie and tied it around my head, bandana
style. The doorman singled me out and bade me enter.
Great music down there. Can’t recall who was playing but the
acoustics were good. I am told this is probably due to the vaulted brick roof and the floor space
sectioned off by archways. You could take refuge under the arches, give your ears
a rest from the NOISE and hear yourself think.
Gone now, the original Cavern, replaced by a fake across the street!
There’s a Beatles Shop just around the corner, full of 1960’s
memorabilia, then onto North John Street, Dale Street, Exchange Street East –Pyke's
the jewellers, no longer there.
The Albany – a gem
Past Albany Buildings in Old Hall Street. Built in 1858, an
architectural gem built around a beautiful sunken courtyard.
It features a lovely wrought iron staircase in the centre, leading up to walkways connecting the upper floor.
Once you could gain access easily through an archway, but
today, it is only visible through locked glass doors.
Built to house the HQ for the Liverpool Cotton Brokers,
today only the ground floor of the Albany are offices. The other floors are all
luxury apartments.
Exchange Flags behind the Town Hall has been surfaced with
granite sets replacing the flagstones of the 1960s.
In Water Street Oriel Chambers (built in 1860) has the
distinction of being the first iron framework building in the world. Nicknamed
the “glasshouse” because of its large windows, modern for that period.
The India Building opposite remains as splendid handsome
celebration of Britain’s dodgy days of Empire.
I am pleased to note that the strange “bucket” fountain on
the Goree Plaza is still in place.
Sadly, not working today. I used to enjoy watching the water fill up each
bucket – there were as many as 15 or 20, each filling up in sequence - before rudely cascading the contents splashing into the pool, below.
Close by is Castle Street, one of the original ancient
streets of the city and by far the most handsome in Liverpool. You can see it
on maps dating back to the 13th century.
It must have changed a bit since those days! But not much in
my time!
Castle Street is top and tailed by the Georgian town hall at
one end and the Queen Victoria monument at the other.
I didn’t spot the debtors stone on this occasion, a round
stone slab in the roadway. Looking up local
history I could only see reference to the Sanctuary Stone which marked the
boundary of the market once held there.
But the little book I had back in the sixties referred to the debtors stone, where anyone
owing money could seek “sanctuary” by standing on it. Perhaps he’d
shout“Barley” which in kids language meant they can’t touch you! Presumably
a mate would go off to get the necessary funds to make settlement, always
hoping he would return of course, while creditors stood idly by waiting to grab
him if should do a runner.
The interloper and the Three Graces
 |
| The Port of Liverpool building reflected in the mirror like wall of the new building opposite. |
At the bottom of Water Street, we reach Temple Buildings.
Ah, ha. I used to work in there, for Millican Advertising.
And across the Dock Road - where ghost trains rattle above on
the long-gone Overhead Railway - to where the
imposing River Mersey beckons. This wonderful water front has, for more than a century,
presented Liverpool’s face to the world of shipping. Here stand the “The three graces” – an imposing threesome each of distinctive architectural merit: the Royal Liver Building with its huge towers topped by
two 18-foot high “Liver Birds”, the Cunard Building in Italian Renaissance and Greek Rivival style and the Edwardian Baroque Port of Liverpool Building.
Those Liver Birds! Big buggers. I knew never to miss the last
bus from the Pier Head. Cos I imagined dem birds might ‘ave yer, pick your
bones clean.
“What time do you
call this?,” my mother would exclaim when I staggered home in the small
hours.
The Three Graces are no longer alone. A modern black marbled interloper has joined them,
lined up to the right of them (as viewed from the River) . The stranger is next to the Museum of Liverpool - I'm not sure what it contains - but it is huge. One end of it is angled like the bows of huge ship. Not to
everyone’s taste. But I like the contrast it provides.
Because his huge slab of shiny tiled wall offers a perfect, shimmering reflection of the domes and pillars of the classical styled Port of
Liverpool Building across the road; and also of the buses at the kerb, and
people walking by.
I wonder if the architect was wary of imposing his modern
design on its famous neighbours.
And hid it behind a huge mirror like edifice, to
render his work all but invisible. I wonder what else has changed since day.
