By John Beckett
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In 1961, before the Beatles became big, and Elvis and Lonnie Donegan were the best, my adventure began. It always started with buses. Two buses at first – West Riding Auto Co Ltd “Guy Wulfrunians” down “The Track” (the drivers’ nickname for the A61 from Wakefield to Leeds – the No 10 West Riding Bus route - as I found out later in life when I became a bus conductor), through Outwood where I lived, and got on the bus. These buses were very revolutionary, though always breaking down – they had air suspension, and semi-automatic gears, and were on the prestigious route from Wakefield to Leeds. In fact they were so smooth you could do your homework on them without wobbly writing! You marvelled at this, as distinct from the old “boneshaker” buses. This was my chariot. |
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I would then from the Leeds Bus Station get a green Leeds City Transport bus up to my school on Tongue Lane, Meanwood. I remember in particular a red-faced Inspector with a strong Irish accent, who terrorised the bus conductors with his elaborate checks of tickets.
Although Leeds City Transport had quite a large bus station, the West Riding had a very strange small one, on New York Street, modelled in fact on the one in Wakefield itself.
The buses ran every 20 minutes or so, unless there were “pea-souper” fogs, and sometimes you would find a queue going from the bus station all the way the road to the railway bridge near the Lloyds’ Arms pub. (That was the night I walked home from Leeds to Wakefield for the first time.)
Of course Wakefield was kept secret from Leeds people, because the buses, on the way back, had “Kettlethorpe” on them – not Wakefield. This was because the route ended at Kettlethorpe Estate you see – 2 miles south of Wakefield. Mmm.... People hoping to find buses to Wakefield would ask the driver where Kettlethorpe was, and the drivers couldn’t often understand why the travellers did not know!
This all might seem pretty ordinary, but going home from school for me became a real adventure - a daily one. You see, I was in control of the timing.
At school I developed a love of history, and here was history, on my doorstep, the heart of the city. My secret mission at the end of the day became the discovery of Victorian Leeds.
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New York Street Bus Station lay opposite the Market, which in those days was more like “Les Halles” in Paris (as described by Emile Zola). There was a slaughter house joined on to the market, and lots of lorries loading meat. Inside the market however I discovered another world. It was a fascinating place, redolent of a historical past, when Leeds according to 19th century writers such as Dickens, was one of the worst of the newly industrialised cities for unhealthy conditions and overcrowding. The roof fascinated me, an intricate pattern of iron and glass. It was dark and poorly lit, a bit spooky in fact. Sadly most of this burned down in the disastrous fire of 1975, and the rest was demolished. Harold Gilman’s portrait of Leeds Market 1913 |
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The lower end of the market, where fruit and vegetables were distributed and sold, was unique and cobbled. It smelled of rotting vegetables by the end of the day, and workers would throw water down and sweep to clear this away. The smell remained, ingrained in the stones. The upper end of the market, with its unique Cuthbert Broderick design, was, and still is a treasure trove of iron work. I knew that the Oakwood Clock had once stood in the central concourse, though I never knew why it was moved up to Soldiers’ Field in Roundhay. When they repainted the Market in the late 1970’s after the fire, they revealed the dragons in all their glory. When I was a kid I wondered why they were there at all, dirty and dingy green – no dragons in Leeds, except behind the counters perhaps! Leeds Upper Market from the balcony |
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I learned a lot about people, shoppers and stallholders by observing the market, the shouting from the stalls, the customers making their way home after searching out the bargains, and for me the excitement of marvel Comics – “Metal Men”, “Green Lantern” and “Superman”. I also learned it changed its moods depending on the time of day too. Just next to the market was another gem – The Corn Exchange. In those days it was often sombre and deserted, as if everyone had left at the end of the day, but you could walk in and see the auctioneer’s desk and stairway in the middle, and a number of small black painted desks, used by the merchants when selling their corn. When you lifted up the lids of the desks, there were still husks and packets of corn labelled with pencil. The floor was empty and there were no shops inside that were open, I think they were originally the Corn Dealers’ Offices, and I had no idea there were huge cellars beneath, until they opened up the Exchange shops and cafes in the 1980’s. Leeds Upper Market – the Dragons (click & hold for close-up)
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I have to say that this building, along with the Leeds Town Hall, and the Leeds City Market are the apogee of Cuthbert Brodericks’ work. Time and time again I return to these three buildings, because they are so unique and special. They are more than designs; they reflect the nature of Victorian Leeds.
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I had been told that the Corn Exchange had been modelled on the Colosseum in Rome, but when I saw pictures of the Bourse in Paris, I knew where Broderick got his idea! I marvel at its grandeur and boldness, particularly the roof, and the increased light now allowed in from the window refurbishments recently completed. The Markets area linked with Kirkgate hold my interest even today, despite the railway viaduct. Pictures of the Corn Exchange |
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I remember looking from the bus windows, coming into Leeds, and marvelling at the bridges over the river, Leeds Parish Church, with its totally unexpected interior of banked seating, and the unique factories and granaries at the riverside with their quaint entrances, most of which today are apartments, and how the railway line cut the area off from the markets area completely and hid it behind a steep embankment, where tramps and drunks lay out daily for their snoozes, and the Salvation Army Refuge was always busy.
Kirkgate with Leeds Parish Church in the distance Granary entrance near Leeds Parish Church (click) |
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When I moved home in Wakefield, and came into Leeds daily on the bus
at Sovereign Street next to the Queen’s Hall, I would approach the
City Centre via Lower Briggate. I stood at the bus stop at the
famous watch makers “Dysons”.
Dyson’s Time Ball Building |
Travelling up to school during my “O levels” I remember that there during the course of a robbery was a murder of the sub postmaster at the Post Office on the other side of the road from Dysons. The police never charged anyone for this crime, and I found out later in life that the murderer had apparently died in prison, and had confessed to the crime.
Later in life when I started going in pubs in Leeds I became interested in their decor too. Sadly many a have been “improved”, though there are some gems left. In the early 1980’s there was a promotion called the Tetley Pub Hunt. You had to visit something like 10 pubs, get a unique stamp on your card, and receive a free pint when you completed the card at the last pub you visited. Along with friends and work colleagues I did this – to grasp the opportunity to visit many of the great Victorian hostelries of the past.
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Sadly you probably can’t do this today since drinking Tetley Bitter seems to now be “A Country for Old Men” – to paraphrase a recent film title, and many pubs have closed, and even worse, remain open selling “guest beers”. I can remember for example the unique bar carpentry at the Victoria Hotel behind the Town Hall, before they removed it. There were some in the markets and river area that remained as basic drinking dens, and still are – for example the General Elliot, or the Regent opposite the Market Entrance on Kirkgate. The Regent |
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This pub has a bare board floor, and the fitments behind the bar are the Victorian original. If you are brave enough to enter it, the atmosphere reminds you of the famous Cezanne images of “L’Absinthe” drinkers, and card players.
There were others too like this – the Whip Hotel, where I celebrated the end of my “A level” exams in the late 1960’s. These places had the atmosphere of western saloons, places where you did not look at anyone for too long, but where we felt the need to explore. They were forbidden zones, seen as rites of passage for us to go in – and survive the experience.
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A more
healthy experience was to be found at the Adelphi at the end of Leeds
Bridge. Here you can still see, despite recent “improvements” the original
fittings from the Victorian period in which it was built, and some glorious
window glass work on display. The Adelphi being just next to the river, and down the road from Lower Briggate leads you to look at the riverside itself. Today it is much more accessible than in the past. I can remember events such as a great fire at a warehouse next to Leeds Bridge in the 1960’s – today the building is fine apartments and restaurants. I can see the same changes at the Dark Arches near Crown Point Bridge.
The Adelphi (click & hold for close-up of windows) |
So what is the future for Victorian Leeds?
Secure - let us hope. Preservation of key buildings must continue. I applaud the recent preservation of the tiled hall in the Library – a must see for anyone remotely interested in civic architecture, and the tremendous work done in Park Square. I know that Leeds has suffered less than Bradford in this regard, but we have to be ever watchful.
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Sites are being transformed blending the solidity of the old with the economics, and changing needs of the new. Here “Primark” replaces the Odeon, where I saw the Beatles in November 1963, and Lewis’s is no more. I look inside the building from the outside and regret its passing – let’s hope the new John Lewis development will live up to expectations. If Leeds is to become “Skyscraper City”, we should be thankful that we have these historical Leeds places remaining. I for one am glad we have kept what we have. Long may this be the case. Primark February 2008 |
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Photos and text © John Beckett 2008