Plea for the poor Still relevant 150 years on
ONE hundred and fifty years on, does The Cry of the Poor still echo in Bristol? In November 1871, “Sixteen working men of Bristol” wrote a pamphlet addressed to the “Sixteen aldermen of the city”, asking for facilities to improve the quality of life of the working people of the city.
At the time, Bristol’s 16 aldermen were a powerful part of the city council. They were elected by the councillors themselves, rather than the city electorate, and so tended to increase the power of the majority party. They included “the great and the good” of the city.
What was important about this pamphlet was that rather than making demands about their own pay and conditions of work, the writers were campaigning for things which would better the lives of the city’s working class as a whole. Their demands included clean air, a “people’s park”, open-air swimming, reading room and library (all free of cost), a municipal fish market and an end to bridge tolls.
The pamphlet outlines the factors contributing to the need for improvements and contrasts their own situation with that of the more affluent residents.
They wrote: “You will say we have Clifton and Durdham Downs, but these are mainly for rich people who can afford to live in the neighbourhood: it would take us an hour’s walking, after the hard toil of the day is over, to get to these beautiful spots, and then another hour to get home, thus making pleasure a toil.”
The pamphlet was written at a time of country-wide liberal reforms, and over the remainder of the nineteenth century many of the workers’ demands were met, with the pamphlet sometimes cited as an important catalyst in their achievement.
But reading it exactly 150 years later, it is striking how our municipally-owned facilities – parks, toilets, swimming pools and libraries – are currently under threat. Some of them have already been closed and others are facing potential closure or privatisation.
The workers’ plea for clean air, now high on the agenda, has never been met, with emissions from vehicles replacing those from factories and workshops.
For this reason, Bristol Radical History Group decided to reprint the pamphlet on this important anniversary of its original publication, and to add a commentary on the context in which it was written and the outcomes to which it contributed. The new 20-page pamphlet, which includes eight contemporary line drawings by the artist Samuel Loxton (1857-1922), is available from Bristol Radical History’s website (brh.org.uk) for £3 including post and packing.
Bristol Radical History Group Wartime firefighters
I RECENTLY saw the picture of Avonmouth fire (BT, Sept 21).
My father served in the fire service during WW2 and our favourite story was the night the water was freezing as it came out of the hoses, after a night time raid on Bristol.
Dad lost his pipe which he had in his pocket, it was found the following day frozen in the tram lines. The photo of that particular fire has been shown several times.
The photo I am mailing I found recently, not sure whether it’s taken at Northville Fire Station or Bridewell. Dad is bottom row far right, and Eric Smythers is second from the right top row, many other faces are familiar but I can’t put names to them. Perhaps like me there are 90-year-olds who recognise their fathers.
Jean Ford by email
Editor’s reply: Yes please. If any readers recognise family members in the photo above, mail us and let us know.
17th century pub for sale
FANCY the chance to run and own one of Bristol’s most charismatic pubs? How about the Kings Head in Victoria Street? Currently on the market for £295,000, the pub offers a unique opportunity to secure a prime part of Bristol’s past.
The last surviving Bristol pub on Camra’s National Inventory of Historic Pub Interiors – the Kings Head is an absolute treasure, complete with gas light fittings, immaculate signage, mirrors and galleries all bearing the hall marks of Parnall’s, Bristol’s premier bar and hotel shop fitting firm of the 1900s.
Built in the troubled 17th century, out of the carnage of the English Civil War, the pub became something of a beacon in the hard working area of Temple, surrounded by brewers, glass makers, potters, soap makers and weavers. In the following century the pub was one of over 50 in Temple Street, including the intriguingly named Crabbs Well Inn. In the 1870s the pub survived early town planners when they ripped the medieval heart out of the area with the installation of Victoria Street. This major thoroughfare connected new-fangled Temple Meads Station with Bristol Bridge but the sacrifice was huge.
It was also around this time that the inn got a ‘free transfer’ from Temple Street to Victoria Street itself, and ultimately became part of Ashton Gate Brewery’s tied estate.
In the early 20th century the pub’s original clientele faded away as local industry declined but then had to endure the worst the Luftwaffe could throw at it. Post war austerity followed and was compounded in the sixties and seventies by brutalist offices springing up all around and dwarfing the pub.
Only a petition by pub regulars saved the Kings Head from being demolished and re-developed. Just in the nick of time the pub gained a Grade II listing, and the interior was then scheduled for “improving”. A minor miracle was then performed and the interior was saved! A far sighted manager from nearby Courage’s brewery in the 1980s saw the potential of the interior and had it restored; in so doing maximising its potential.
The restoration promptly made the pub a perfect refuge from all of those grotty modern office blocks. With its heaven sent interior as the pub’s unique selling point, surely the pub can thrive once again in the right hands.
Mark Steeds by email