mac
369
Pinched off FB
Some years back, the late Mercury journalist, Michael Shuttlewood, explained what a drink in 1950s Leicester was like:
“No institution in Leicester has changed so much as the pub.
“Hardly a pub remains that has not suffered disembowelling, revamping, open-planning, re-naming or outright rebuilding,” opined Michael, back in 1977.
“Not that the old days were always good. We didn’t have a lot of money then, but a little money went a long way.
“So, to those who don’t remember, let me recall what it was like in 1952.
“To begin with, the youngster was different. The cult of youth had not arrived. Maturity was the aim. The young man gleamed at both ends – hair cream on top and shoe polish below. He wore a Melton blue overcoat, a shiny white scarf and in winter, nearly always carried gloves.
“That overcoat was essential, for few pubs had central heating and the seats near the fire were the preserve of regulars.
“The centre of town was different in 1952. We had a centre then, not just a shopping centre. Humberstone Gate was like the Golden Mile, but with little else but pubs.
“In place of the plate glass attractions of the Haymarket Centre, we had the multifarious attractions of The George, Tower Vaults, Stag and Pheasant, Admiral Nelson, Board, Plough, Bell Hotel, Horse Repository, White Hart and the dear Old Star. Across from the Tower was the Antelope, further up the street Dr Watt’s – in reality the King’s Arms, though never known as that.
“These establishments catered for every type of man. And to cater for the crowds, there was a gentleman hardly seen today – the waiter. No pushing up to the bar to get your beer then. You sat down for your eight penny half of mild, if you wanted, and had it brought to you on a tray.
“Society was well-organised. There was a place for everybody and everybody knew his place. People knew if they were bar, smoke room or lounge people and filed themselves away accordingly.I’m sure many regret the advent of the one-room pub, with its blaring jukebox and its inevitable mixing of people who don’t want to be together anyway.
“Music was something which, in 1952, we made ourselves. A sing-song was usually spontaneous, confined to the last three-quarters of an hour of “time”.
“A phenomenon of pub life that has vanished with the coming of equality is the “gents only” bar. Leicester had more than its share of them. Some had perhaps followed the Edwardian example of establishments in London’s West End in refusing “ladies” in a bid to combat prostitution. All based their philosophy of the English male chauvinist approach that real enjoyment meant getting as far away from the old woman and kids as possible.
“There were men only bars at the Royal, the Wellington, the White Hart, the George, the Bell and the Stag.
“The gents’ room at the King’s Head, in King Street, was hardly big enough to accommodate six gents together, while even the suburban Coach and Horses had a room where unaccompanied ladies were not admitted.
“They were great days. I regret the fact that shops swallowed up so many city centre inns. I regret the passing of the back street pub, along with the terraced house that nurtured it.
“What pub crawls there were for the conscript of 1952 home on leave. Starting at St George Street, where the Leicester Mercury offices are now, he could work his way from the Brickmakers (later Carousel) through seemingly endless calls at the Engine, Victoria, Bakers Arms, Spa, Lancastrian Castle, London and North Western Vaults, right up through Birstall Street.
“Then, back down Wharf Street, with its Rifle Volunteer and Generous Briton to Bedford Street and the Eight Bells.
“But let us not knock the modern pub too much. It’s cleaner, carpeted, has good food to offer — and doesn’t close at 10 o’clock. The tavern changes, most ingeniously, to match the needs of the times.Perhaps in another 25 years, some other journalist will sentimentalise about the loss of discos, jukeboxes and lunchtime strip shows.
“In the meantime, let us never forget G K Chesterton’s great pronouncement that when the English have lost their inns, they will have lost their freedom.
Some years back, the late Mercury journalist, Michael Shuttlewood, explained what a drink in 1950s Leicester was like:
“No institution in Leicester has changed so much as the pub.
“Hardly a pub remains that has not suffered disembowelling, revamping, open-planning, re-naming or outright rebuilding,” opined Michael, back in 1977.
“Not that the old days were always good. We didn’t have a lot of money then, but a little money went a long way.
“So, to those who don’t remember, let me recall what it was like in 1952.
“To begin with, the youngster was different. The cult of youth had not arrived. Maturity was the aim. The young man gleamed at both ends – hair cream on top and shoe polish below. He wore a Melton blue overcoat, a shiny white scarf and in winter, nearly always carried gloves.
“That overcoat was essential, for few pubs had central heating and the seats near the fire were the preserve of regulars.
“The centre of town was different in 1952. We had a centre then, not just a shopping centre. Humberstone Gate was like the Golden Mile, but with little else but pubs.
“In place of the plate glass attractions of the Haymarket Centre, we had the multifarious attractions of The George, Tower Vaults, Stag and Pheasant, Admiral Nelson, Board, Plough, Bell Hotel, Horse Repository, White Hart and the dear Old Star. Across from the Tower was the Antelope, further up the street Dr Watt’s – in reality the King’s Arms, though never known as that.
“These establishments catered for every type of man. And to cater for the crowds, there was a gentleman hardly seen today – the waiter. No pushing up to the bar to get your beer then. You sat down for your eight penny half of mild, if you wanted, and had it brought to you on a tray.
“Society was well-organised. There was a place for everybody and everybody knew his place. People knew if they were bar, smoke room or lounge people and filed themselves away accordingly.I’m sure many regret the advent of the one-room pub, with its blaring jukebox and its inevitable mixing of people who don’t want to be together anyway.
“Music was something which, in 1952, we made ourselves. A sing-song was usually spontaneous, confined to the last three-quarters of an hour of “time”.
“A phenomenon of pub life that has vanished with the coming of equality is the “gents only” bar. Leicester had more than its share of them. Some had perhaps followed the Edwardian example of establishments in London’s West End in refusing “ladies” in a bid to combat prostitution. All based their philosophy of the English male chauvinist approach that real enjoyment meant getting as far away from the old woman and kids as possible.
“There were men only bars at the Royal, the Wellington, the White Hart, the George, the Bell and the Stag.
“The gents’ room at the King’s Head, in King Street, was hardly big enough to accommodate six gents together, while even the suburban Coach and Horses had a room where unaccompanied ladies were not admitted.
“They were great days. I regret the fact that shops swallowed up so many city centre inns. I regret the passing of the back street pub, along with the terraced house that nurtured it.
“What pub crawls there were for the conscript of 1952 home on leave. Starting at St George Street, where the Leicester Mercury offices are now, he could work his way from the Brickmakers (later Carousel) through seemingly endless calls at the Engine, Victoria, Bakers Arms, Spa, Lancastrian Castle, London and North Western Vaults, right up through Birstall Street.
“Then, back down Wharf Street, with its Rifle Volunteer and Generous Briton to Bedford Street and the Eight Bells.
“But let us not knock the modern pub too much. It’s cleaner, carpeted, has good food to offer — and doesn’t close at 10 o’clock. The tavern changes, most ingeniously, to match the needs of the times.Perhaps in another 25 years, some other journalist will sentimentalise about the loss of discos, jukeboxes and lunchtime strip shows.
“In the meantime, let us never forget G K Chesterton’s great pronouncement that when the English have lost their inns, they will have lost their freedom.
