Sidney Street …… little valued …….and now forgotten

This is Sidney Street or what is left of it.

Sidney Street, 2025

Once upon a time it ran off Hardman Street, taking a sharp right and becoming Thompson Street before joining Joddrel Street.

Sidney Street, 1974

Later Thompson Street was renamed Tivoli Street and just a decade ago you could still trace the route from Sidney Street following the old street plan.I did it regularly but by then it was pretty much all open land with just the road surface and a remnant of a building to bear witness that this had been a busy place.

I say busy but you would have to go back to the 1850s to find much stirring on Thompson Street which consisted of sixteen back to back houses on the northern side facing nine larger properties which backed on to Ashely’s Silk Mill, Hampson’s Hat Factory and Thompson’s Chemical Works.

Those railings, Sidney Street, 2025

A century later these had all vanished under large warehouses, which in turn were demolished to make way for a car park and a grassed verge.

Sidney Street, 1851

And now they in turn have gone and the site is occupied by a large 21st century building.

Sidney Street, and Thompson/Tivoli Street, 2012

But compare the image of Sidney Street today with that of 1974 and tiny vestiges of it most recent past is there from the iron railings of what is now a restaurant to the tiled rear of Invicata House.

Not so of course 25 dwellings that in 1851 ran along Thompson Street.

They were home to 113 people who made their livelihood in a mix of unskilled occupations, many of whom had been born in Ireland.

Typical were the families at number at 32 which was inhabited by Mr and Mrs Howarth, Michael and Mary Byrnes their son and stepson and Mary Baxter and her son. 

James Howarth was a porter, Michael Byrnes a bricklayer’s labourer, Mary a shoe binder and their sons worked as cotton piecers, while Mary Baxter was a washerwoman and her son a brick layer.

Tvivoli Street, 1968

In time I will explore Thompson Street in 1851and its varied occupants and try to fix when the properties vanished.  They were still there in 1893, but I guess will have been swept away soon after.

Alas nether Sidney Street or Thompson Street were deemed interesting enough to have been included in the street directories for the 19th and early 20th centuries, leaving their only trace in the Raye Books and census returns.

We shall see.

Location; Spinneyfields

Pictures; Sidney Street, 2025, from the collection of Andrew Simpson and in 1974 m5022, and Tivoli Street formerley Thompson Street, M05716, 1968, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass and Sidney Street, Tivoli Street, 2012 courtesy of Google Maps, and Sidney Street in 1851, from Adshead’s map of Manchester, 1851, courtesy of Digital Archives, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/ 

Just how do you honour a shop with history?.......

Now it’s not a silly question nor is it an irreverent one, but a genuine search for a fitting memorial to a shop that has not only sold its share of baked beans, but been at the heart of local politics and the community for 97 years.

Hardy Lane Co-op, 1959

The shop is the Hardy Lane Co-op on the corner of Barlow Moor Road and Hardy Lane and is the Hardy Lane Co-op.

It was opened in 1929 to serve the new housing estates which were being built along and behind Barlow Moor Road.

What marks it out is that it has a meeting room and has the distinction of being one of the last Co-op stores to retain a community space which can be hired out. Once there used to be hundreds of such spaces above Co-op shops across the UK.

But sadly most have now gone.

And the Hardy Lane Co-op Rooms can boast a rich and diversified series of events which have taken place in its room.

They range from meetings of the Wood Craft Folk to pollical assemblies of the Labour and Co-operative Parties as well as acting as election rooms for the two parties, and a heap of social events from film nights to whist evenings.

That banner, 1937

A favourite story of mine is the regular meetings of the Chorlton and Manley Park Women’s Co-operative Guild which was founded in 1922, and commemorated with a banner in 1934.

I remember looking up at the banner during meetings and events throughout the 1970s into the 1980s and beyond which were enlivened by some of the original participants of the local Guild who did “tea duty” in the interval having contributed to discussions of the Co-op Party on a variety of topics.

And so, I will be returning to all these moments in the story of the Co-op rooms, but for those who can't wait I can recommend that wonderful blog written by Lawrence Beedle on all things Hardy Lane Coop.*

The Hary Lane store, 2009

Leaving me just to announce the news that a Blue Plaque will be installed on the wall of the Hardy Lane Co-op Store later this year.

Watch this space.

Location; The Hardy Lane Co-op Store

Pictures; Barlow Moor Road, 1966, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass the banner of the Chorlton and Manley Park Women’s Co-operative  Guild 1937 and the Co-op Store in 2009, courtesy of Lawrence Beedle

*Hardy Lane Scrapbook, https://hardylane.blogspot.com/

Take one young lad …….. several jobs working by the River …… and you get a bit of history

 Now, even on an August morning with the promise of a hot day ahead, standing at the bus stop opposite the Woolwich Ferry at 5 in the morning could be a grim place.

And when the weather had turned sour, and the wind and sleet swept off the River it was not the best way to start the day.

But then I was lucky, all my jobs along the Thames were indoors, not for me the full force of the weather unloading goods from a tramp steamer or scraping the bottom of a rusty old vessel in one of those small boat yards along the River. 

Instead I spent a time in the old R.A.C.S. food warehouse, dispatching groceries to stores across south east London and beyond.

It was a fascinating place, where its earlier life lingered on in the powerful smell of tea which permeated one floor, and the loop holes on all the floors which gave access to the River, but I guess had long ago seen the last cargoes hoisted  from the jetty water side.

When I worked there in the early 1970s everything came in and went back out by road, and the closest I could get to the Thames was from those loop holes.

And now the building has gone.  Just when this complex of Victorian warehouses was demolished  I have yet to discover, but gone it has.

And so it seems has Glenvilles which was close to the Blackwall Tunnel and stood in the shadow of Tunnel Refineries.  

Even now a full 52 years later I can still remember that pungent smell from the Refineries.

It always won out over the variety of odours at Glenvilles, which made everything from custard and blancmange powder, to Ice Pops and powdered milk.

I say powdered milk but to be more accurate it turned milk powder into granules for a variety of companies from Sainsbury, Tesco to Fine Fare.

The process was a simple enough one and involved blowing milk powder along giant stainless steel tubes under heat, which turned the powder into granuales.

The story was that the process came from Arizona, which is hot and dry, but made for difficulties in a factory beside the Thames where the climate can be damp and cold.

The upshot was that on some days the parts clogged up and production stuttered to a halt, and on a very bad day ceased all together, which was bad news given that we were on a bonus scheme.

Nor was that all, because the outlet valve where the granules left the tube was often faulty, which presented problems.  Ideally it was a simple task, to fill a 56 lb bag of the stuff and shut the tap off.  But 

When the tap was faulty one of the team had to place his had underneath it while the other quickly yanked the bag away and replaced it with another.  Any tardiness on the part of the team could lead to a spillage of very hot granules across the floor and led to a cloud of milk dust which clung to your overalls, mixed with your perspiration and made for rivulets of sticky sweet smelling milk to run down your face.

Later in the cooler parts of the plant that milk powder hardened on your boiler suit forming a crunchy surface, which fellow passengers on the bus home stayed well away from, making you the Billy No Mates of London Transport. But it did have just one perk, and that was the after shift drink in the Cutty Sark pub.

The early shift ran from six till two, offered up the chance of a couple of pints at the end of a very long morning, with the added pleasure of mixing with those who had shot across the River to take in the atmosphere of “that delightful and still genuine watering hole”.

Needless to say their visit was a tad challenged by the two young workers in boilersuits emanating a distinct milk perfume and shedding the occasional crispy white flakes.

It was a childish tilt at “class war”, which I doubt pleased the landlord, and still involved that long bus journey back to Eltham.

All of which is now over 50 years ago. In the intervening decades I have added several other jobs to the portfolio including a builder’s labourer in Blackheath, a scaffolder’s mate, and a brief brush with the post office in Eltham.  This last job hardly counts as a job as it was as temporary postman in the run up to Christmas, and I lasted but two days.

Leaving me just to admit that for 35 years I taught in inner city schools, and now fill out my time as a researcher and a writer.

But I still look back on those first jobs, and reflect that while I have changed so has much of the River that I knew.

Some of what has gone is no loss.  Those dangerous low paid jobs which offered little security can surely not be missed, along with the overcrowded and unsanitary dwelling places tucked away and out of sight.  

Here were strong communities bounded together by poverty and adversity, but lets not kid ourselves that poverty and adversity, are anthing to be nostalgic for.

I do miss the bustle of the River, and the hours I spent as a kid wandering the area, but the past should always be judged with a critical eye.  

I remember my foreman at Glenvilles admitting that he never ate the left overs from the Sunday roast, reckoning it was not a question of wasting food, but just simply it reminded him of growing up in the age of "make do and mend", where new was a luxury, and food remainded something to be grateful for.

Location; between Woolwich and Greenwich along the Thames, in the 1960s and 70s

Pictures; Woolwich and Greenwich, the 1970s, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

On Stretford Station with a bit of our railway past

It will soon be nearly a quarter of a century since the last train ran from Stretford station which means that memories of a time before the tram will be fading

Stretford Station, April 1961

I briefly used the station back in the 1970s and had no idea of its history or the railway line.

It had been opened in 1849 by the Manchester South Junction and Altrincham Railway and was in part designed to transport food grown in Altrincham and Stretford into the heart of Manchester and in time would challenge the Duke's Canal as the main means of carrying heavy goods in to Manchester.

I have no doubt it would have created quite a stir.

The men who built the line were viewed at best with suspicion and at worst with fear.  They had a well deserved reputation for hard drinking and rough behaviour which is no surprise given the dangers of the work they undertook.

Central Station, April 1961

And there may well have been a few of  our farm a labourers who were taken on to do some of the least skilled work while some of our farmers and market gardeners would have taken advantage of the line to move their crops to the Manchester markets.

But its impact was also to start a wave of house building along Edge Lane.

The train offered the quickest way into town and allowed those who earned a living in the city to escape to what was still the countryside.

Of course by the time I used the train Edge Lane and the surrounding area had long lost any semblance of countryside, but the station still looked like an old fashioned railway, which is where my fiend Ann comes into the story.

She “found these the other day, tucked away. Stretford station in 1961, and Manchester Central, probably a similar date. I used to travel from Stretford to Oxford Road Station, spending my time on the journey drawing the other passengers.”

And so after sixty-two years a little bit of what an old railway station looked like is here to see again.

Now that is not so daft given that Stretford has become a Metro Stop with shiny yellow trams and Central having long lost its trains is now an Exhibition Centre.

Pictures; Stretford and Central Stations, April 1961 courtesy of Ann Love

Down at West Point in 1911 before the Seymour Hotel ........ looking for the story of Jonathan Brown .... gardener and expert orchid grower

Now the Seymour has passed into history and soon memories will fade that this was the last pub before the long dry walk along Upper Chorlton Road to Brooks Bar and the Whalley Hotel

West Point, 1911

That said you would be hard pressed to find anyone who could remember when this grand old place was a private residence.

And now only history books will offer up its time as the hone of Samuel Gratrix who called his house West Point at the junction of Manchester Road, Seymour Grove and Upper Chorlton Road.

All of which l was reminded of when Jonathan Brown set me off on a hunt for his grandfather who was the gardener for Mr Gratrix.

Jonathan came across a reference to the both men in an article from The Orchid World published in 1911.*

He grandfather was living in the lodge with his wife Betsy. They had been married for less than a year and in 1914 Mrs Brown had a son. Their home vanished long before I knew the Seymour and l haven’t found a picture of the lodge.  But it had five rooms and was situated on the south side of Mr Gratrix's big property.

Samuel Gratrix, curca 1911

Locating the Brown's in 1911 was easy enough and the story then made its way to Rawtenstall where Jonathan had been born in 1883.

Just eight years later and his mother was a widow bringing up six children and working as a charwoman.

Her husband had been a teacher and while it is unclear yet when he died it will have to be after 1886 when their last child was born.

In time l will track Mrs Brown who had been born in Norfolk in 1855 which made her just 36 when she was bringing up her children.

All of which was new to Jonathan who an hour earlier knew nothing of his paternal father's family before 1914.

And the final twist was the 1871 census which not only revealed that his great grandfather was a pupil teacher but that his great great grandfather farmed 35 acres outside Rawtenstall and had been born at the beginning of the 19th century in Colne.

That might seem a long way from West Point in 1911 so I shall finish with an extract from The Orchid World which having praised Mrs Gratrix for “looking after the wants of these delicate and youthful Orchids” turned to Mr Brown “who has charge also of the 17 acres of grounds and] shows fully his capabilities as an experts Orchid grower, and the many rare and beautiful plants which he is entrusted should act as a great incentive to his ever willing desire to still further improve their good qualities.”*

West Point, 1894

I think Mr Brown would be pretty pleased with that.

Not that he stayed at West Point.

At some time he moved on eventually landing up in Huddersfield where the family settled and along the way set up a business, although Jonathan told me his grandfather was for moving on but his son put his foot down and Yorkshire became home.

And that is about it for now but I remain fascinated at how chance connections open up a whole new set of stories.

So for me apart from making a new acquaintance I have found a picture of West Point before it became the Seymour, discovered that its grounds extended to 17 acres and learnt a little about one of our gardeners and residents.

Location; West Point

Pictures; West Point, Whalley Range and Mr Samuel Gratrix from The Orchid World, Vol 1 nu 1910-1911, from the collection of Jonathan Brown, and West Point from the OS map of South Lancashire, 1894, courtesy of Digital Archives Association, http://digitalarchives.co.uk/

*The Orchid World, Vol 1 nu 1910-1911, pages 154-8

Walking back in time through Eltham, Charlton and Greenwich with the pictures of Llwyd Roberts

Now anyone with an interest in Eltham’s history will have come across the pictures of Mr Llwyd Roberts. *

They first appeared in the Kentish Times in the 1920s and 30s have reappeared in collections since and regularly pop up accompanying  descriptions of Eltham in the past.

My own collection comes from a book published by the Kentish Times in 1966 which was sent to me by Margaret Copeland Gain whose husband like me is an Eltham exile and like me derived great pleasure from Mr Llwyd Roberts’s work.

He was a fine artist and draughtsman and some at least of the pictures will have been drawn from firsthand knowledge while others were inspired by watercolours, drawings and photographs.

What I didn’t know but should have done was that his work extended to other parts of south east London and for that I have to thank Tricia Lesley who came across a catalogue for an exhibition of his “Watercolours and Drawings of Places in the Borough of Greenwich.” from 1976.**

Included in the catalogue are places I never knew existed and which have long gone.

Of these I was drawn to Morton’s Theatre which Mr Roberts’s drew in 1934 and Charlton Village sometime around 1870..

And as you do I went looking for the story of the theatre and found it at that wonderful site dedicated to the music hall and theatre history.***

So I will leave you to follow the link and instead just say that the catalogue lists 168 of his pictures which along with another 58 can be viewed by appointment at Greenwich Heritage Centre.****

Now the Centre is one of those places which if I lived locally I would never be away from, because along with Mr Roberts’s pictures it has an extensive collection of material covering the history of the area.

And as I know next to nothing about Charlton where our Ian grew up I might well look up the background to the picture of the village.

I am not sure when it was drawn but it is based on a source dating from the 1870s.

Pictures; Morton’s Theatre, 1934, Greenwich High Road, and Charlton village circa 1870s, from Watercolours and Drawings of Places in the Borough of Greenwich, 1977

*Llwyd Roberts, http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Llwyd%20Roberts

** Watercolours and Drawings of Places in the Borough of Greenwich, Llwyd Roberts, Woodlands Art Gallery, December 1976-January 1977.

*** The Prince of Wales Theatre, Greenwich, arthurlloyd, co.uk http://www.arthurlloyd.co.uk/Greenwich.htm

****Greenwich Heritage Centre, heritage.centre@rght.org.uk

Looking out from Barlow Moor Road in the summer of 1960

There is a singular lack of images of Chorlton during the middle decades of the last century.

Look through the collections and you can find plenty of fine examples of what the township looked like during late 1800s and early 1900s.

Most are from commercial photographers who sold their work on to picture postcard companies, and never missing an opportunity also took plenty of photographs of individual streets, which they then offered up to residents for “a knockdown price”.

But by the 1950s the golden age of picture postcards was drawing to a close, just as cameras became cheaper and more readily available, which ushered in “the snap”.

The snap was usually a very personal image, sometimes a little out of focus and in most cases consigned to a photo album, or the back of a cupboard.

Sometimes the odd one gained pride of place on a fridge or notice board, only to fade with the years and become “tired” from much passing around.

All of which brings me to a set of sketches made by my friend Ann of the Chorlton she knew back in the 1960s.

Ann grew up on Barlow Moor Road at what is now 523 , and as part of various art projects she sketched some of the rooms in the house as well as view out across the back garden.

And include three of Chestnut Avenue, which were made in the summer of 1960 and included “The first house on the right which was an Opticians, when I lived at 523”.

Location; Chorlton

Pictures; Chestnut Avenue, August 1960, from the collection of Ann Love