Sometimes a picture reveals different stories which stretch back and encompass different people and different events.
This particular photograph is of the old school hall on the night we celebrated Victory in Europe which brought the European war to a close in May 1945.
During the spring of that year it was clear that the war was drawing to a close. In March the Western Allies had crossed the Rhine in to Germany and in April the Red Army was in Berlin. The death of Hitler on April 30th moved things on and on May 7th in the early hours of the morning the German army in the west surrendered. Despite no immediate official announcement the news spread that the war was over and later in the day the Government confirmed that Germany had surrendered and that May 8th would be a national holiday and designated it Victory in Europe Day.
The Manchester Guardian reported that here in the city,
“At ten o'clock Albert Square had become a great dancing floor, upon which partnerships were formed on a free and easy plan. Music came from the town hall and reached the crowd through loudspeakers. A popular prank was to climb on to the roofs of the air-raid shelters to dance - probably it was the men of the navy who began it. But whoever set the example found abundant followers, and presently the girls of the WAAF and the ATS showed a readiness to participate. Without ceremony dozens of them were hauled to the top amid a good deal of cheering. Fireworks were occasionally thrown into the air, and there was an unexpected supply of paper hats, streamers, confetti and other carnival accessories which, after years of a paper famine, would have been thought to be unobtainable.” *
I am not sure that our own celebrations happened on that night. These were spontaneous events and what was clearly a formal sit down affair needed planning. I have every confidence that someone will have recorded the evening in their diary and we will learn the date and perhaps something of the mood in the school hall.
The Government had already said that
“Bonfires will be allowed, but the government trusts that only material with no salvage value will be used.” And that “until the end of May you may buy cotton bunting without coupons, as long as it is red, white or blue, and does not cost more than one shilling and three pence a square yard.”
Strangely for such a momentous event the expressions on the faces of the group seem sombre. There are a few who are smiling and some who look slightly baffled but the rest just stare back at the camera. Perhaps the time lag between the victory news and the celebration party was enough for the euphoria to wear off, or maybe uppermost in many people’s minds was the sacrifice in treasure, lives and lost time.
I remember an old friend saying to me that her abiding memory of the war was how it had robbed her of a good six years of her life. “Instead of just growing up and having the sort of fun a teenager should have there was always anxiety. You were worried about your own safety and that of your family and the knowledge that any boy you grew fond of might be killed.”
In the same way I came across a diary entry for May 7th 1945, the day the fighting stopped in Europe. The entry was simple “Today” she wrote “I will go to bed knowing that everyone I love will be safe”
But the picture is also a wonderful record of what the old school on the green looked like. It had been built in 1876 by public subscription and replaced an earlier one dating from the 1840s.
There had been plans out forward in the summer of 1897 to build an additional level which would have almost doubled the capacity, because despite the fact that when built the school was “considerably in excess of the requirements of the Parish ................ the abnormal growth of the parish within the last five years has rendered a further enlargement imperative.”**
The inside was not unlike the Board School I attended which also had a huge fire place and tall windows. Now I never now look these late 19th century school buildings. They were built to last and were warm in winter and cool in summer. The tall windows allowed in plenty of natural light but made it difficult to stare out of.
All very different from the new all glass and steel constructions of the 1950s. The mass of windows made them hot in the summer and uncomfortable cold in winter and of course afford fine views to distract the bored student. So while the Board and National school buildings have survived for over 140 years many of their bright post war successors didn’t even make it into the 21st century.
There are still some in Chorlton who remember the inside of the old school and others who saved each Friday night with the Penny Savings Bank which used the building, but I suspect there are few photographs of what it was like, which makes this one so important. Even more so as the work to turn the school into modern private houses moves into its final stages.
Pictures; the old school hall from the Lloyd collection circa 1945 and the school and school house 209 from the collection of Andrew Simpson
*Manchester Gurdian May 9 1945
** St Clements Handbook 1897
This particular photograph is of the old school hall on the night we celebrated Victory in Europe which brought the European war to a close in May 1945.
During the spring of that year it was clear that the war was drawing to a close. In March the Western Allies had crossed the Rhine in to Germany and in April the Red Army was in Berlin. The death of Hitler on April 30th moved things on and on May 7th in the early hours of the morning the German army in the west surrendered. Despite no immediate official announcement the news spread that the war was over and later in the day the Government confirmed that Germany had surrendered and that May 8th would be a national holiday and designated it Victory in Europe Day.
The Manchester Guardian reported that here in the city,
“At ten o'clock Albert Square had become a great dancing floor, upon which partnerships were formed on a free and easy plan. Music came from the town hall and reached the crowd through loudspeakers. A popular prank was to climb on to the roofs of the air-raid shelters to dance - probably it was the men of the navy who began it. But whoever set the example found abundant followers, and presently the girls of the WAAF and the ATS showed a readiness to participate. Without ceremony dozens of them were hauled to the top amid a good deal of cheering. Fireworks were occasionally thrown into the air, and there was an unexpected supply of paper hats, streamers, confetti and other carnival accessories which, after years of a paper famine, would have been thought to be unobtainable.” *
I am not sure that our own celebrations happened on that night. These were spontaneous events and what was clearly a formal sit down affair needed planning. I have every confidence that someone will have recorded the evening in their diary and we will learn the date and perhaps something of the mood in the school hall.
The Government had already said that
“Bonfires will be allowed, but the government trusts that only material with no salvage value will be used.” And that “until the end of May you may buy cotton bunting without coupons, as long as it is red, white or blue, and does not cost more than one shilling and three pence a square yard.”
Strangely for such a momentous event the expressions on the faces of the group seem sombre. There are a few who are smiling and some who look slightly baffled but the rest just stare back at the camera. Perhaps the time lag between the victory news and the celebration party was enough for the euphoria to wear off, or maybe uppermost in many people’s minds was the sacrifice in treasure, lives and lost time.
I remember an old friend saying to me that her abiding memory of the war was how it had robbed her of a good six years of her life. “Instead of just growing up and having the sort of fun a teenager should have there was always anxiety. You were worried about your own safety and that of your family and the knowledge that any boy you grew fond of might be killed.”
In the same way I came across a diary entry for May 7th 1945, the day the fighting stopped in Europe. The entry was simple “Today” she wrote “I will go to bed knowing that everyone I love will be safe”
But the picture is also a wonderful record of what the old school on the green looked like. It had been built in 1876 by public subscription and replaced an earlier one dating from the 1840s.
There had been plans out forward in the summer of 1897 to build an additional level which would have almost doubled the capacity, because despite the fact that when built the school was “considerably in excess of the requirements of the Parish ................ the abnormal growth of the parish within the last five years has rendered a further enlargement imperative.”**
The inside was not unlike the Board School I attended which also had a huge fire place and tall windows. Now I never now look these late 19th century school buildings. They were built to last and were warm in winter and cool in summer. The tall windows allowed in plenty of natural light but made it difficult to stare out of.
All very different from the new all glass and steel constructions of the 1950s. The mass of windows made them hot in the summer and uncomfortable cold in winter and of course afford fine views to distract the bored student. So while the Board and National school buildings have survived for over 140 years many of their bright post war successors didn’t even make it into the 21st century.
There are still some in Chorlton who remember the inside of the old school and others who saved each Friday night with the Penny Savings Bank which used the building, but I suspect there are few photographs of what it was like, which makes this one so important. Even more so as the work to turn the school into modern private houses moves into its final stages.
Pictures; the old school hall from the Lloyd collection circa 1945 and the school and school house 209 from the collection of Andrew Simpson
*Manchester Gurdian May 9 1945
** St Clements Handbook 1897
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