‘Beating heart’ of Burslem has played host to everything from historic events during the Industrial Revolution to clog dancing!
Historian MERVYN EDWARDS looks at the vital role played in the community by the popular Leopard pub in Burslem...
WHENEVER an old pub recedes into history, a little something in me dies. For goodness sakes, let’s hope that Burslem’s revered Leopard, presently closed and unoccupied, hasn’t served its last pint.
Perhaps there is no pub in Stoke-on-trent that has such a full history, that has generated so many memories and is regarded with such heartfelt affection. In my view, if a Potteries drinker hasn’t really known the Leopard, then he’s only playing at being a Stokie pub-goer.
Let’s explore this Grade II listed building’s history first. As a plaque on its exterior confirms, it is an 18th Century pub.
The Leopard’s early days are connected with the story of Josiah Wedgwood and his advocacy of improved communications.
The first meeting of the new Lawton, Burslem and Newcastleunder-lyme Turnpike Trust took place at the Leopard, kept by victualler John Johnson, on May 11, 1763. This was approximately the mid-point of the turnpike road between Red Bull and Newcastle, underlining the potential for the growth of Burslem and the Leopard in particular.
And two years later, Josiah, James Brindley and the early canal promoters met at the Leopard as plans for the Grand Trunk Canal – later the Trent and Mersey – gradually began to take shape.
The significance of this meeting should not be underestimated, for the construction of this canal was a pivotal development in the unfolding Industrial Revolution - as was recognised by the Campaign For Real Ale organisation in February, 2006, when the Leopard was one of only 14 pubs across the country to receive a ‘Pubs In Our Time’ commemorative plaque describing how each pub had made a serious contribution to British history.
The Leopard had been a prominent coaching inn, but decades after the coaching era had ended, it still had stabling for 50 horses, which was very convenient for local businessmen using horse-drawn conveyances.
It was also a popular caterer for civic functions and the like. When the foundation of St Paul’s church in Dale Hall was laid in 1828, a sumptuous breakfast was prepared at the Leopard and eaten in Burslem Town Hall.
And when that building’s successor was opened in 1857, an enormous beanfeast was provided by Mrs Lees of the Leopard, embracing turtle soup, gravy soup and mock turtle soup, turbot with lobster sauce, crimped cod with oyster sauce, eels, venison, roast beef, saddle of mutton, stewed beef, goose, turkey, roast chickens, ham, tongue, calves head hash, pigeon pie, boiled chickens, roast pig, leverets, partridges, pheasants, jellies, blancmanges, tarts, custards and puddings and 92 dishes of dessert.
Various groups met at the Leopard over the years including the Burslem Association for the Prosecution of Felons, Burslem Swimming Club, the Stoke-on-trent Shakespearean Society and even Porthill Park Cricket Club.
Over the years, it has had a close relationship with Port Vale football club – certainly going all the way back to 1889, when The Sentinel announced that the club’s members and supporters would henceforward be meeting at the Leopard, following their removal from the Burslem Coffee House a few doors away.
A 1950s photograph of Market Place in the Warrillow Collection shows the Leopard sandwiched between Boyce Adams Limited (food specialists) on its left and James Cock’s drapery shop on its right. The Leopard’s hotel rooms still numbered around thirty even in the 1930s, but it ceased to be residential in 1957.
It remained, however, Burslem’s premier public house - and for all sorts of reasons, including its fame as the Tiger in the novels of Arnold Bennett.
Part of the Leopard Yard to the rear remains cobbled, and in April, 1996 it was used as a dramatic setting for the Beaver Arts Group, who presented live theatre there. The pub played host to many musicians over the years, including the Leopard Clog Dancers in the 1970s.
I have countless happy memories of the pub. In 1993, I was in Tunstallbased tourist guide Syd Bailey’s audience as he described the history of the Leopard from just outside its front door.
Syd was stopped in his tracks by an ebullient elderly chap who seemed to appear from nowhere. The interloper was manifestly tipsy but seemed fascinated by Syd’s distinctive voice – asking our guide from whereabouts he came.
Syd replied that he had been born in Shropshire but had travelled around much of Britain, hence his ‘mongrel’ accent.
The stranger – who I later realised was Burslem character and retired draper Jimmy Dawes – was so taken by Syd’s vocal attributes that he dragged him into the nearby Post Office Vaults, so that his mate could hear it, too.
Some of the sweetest times of my life were spent in the bar of the Leopard on Monday nights – watching the Squeezebox who played several instruments including the accordion, button-melodions, the mouth organ and the clappers.
Their songs included Red River Valley, Your Cheating Heart, Putting on the Style and We’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain. Michael Schonau, Roy Evans, John Hegarty and the gang played a mixture of English and Irish folk, and although they changed their repertoire about as often as a tramp changes his vest, Monday nights in the Leopard offered a warm familiarity and the feeling of a pub within a pub.
One of the regular Monday night attendees was a gentleman in his seventies who never failed to wear a smart suit, collared shirt and tie. It occurred to me that in dressing up to go to the pub, he was respecting the hostelry and its patrons – a very old-fashioned approach that I have tried to emulate over the years.
Long-serving licensee Bob Byrne left in September, 2004, but in more recent years, the stewardship of Neil Crisp, who ran the pub with his partner Neil Cox, is fondly remembered.
Neil adored the Leopard, regularly referring to it as “she” or “her” while his exemplary customer service inevitably compelled people to talk about his pub.
Often, you would go into the Leopard for a drink and perhaps start thinking about a meal to boot – especially as the menu could be every bit as imaginative as Mrs Lees’ in the 1850s.
However, Neil – oozing enthusiasm – would sometimes appear at your convivial table with a smile on his face and a big plate of Stilton and crackers for you to try. By the time you’d had a scoff, any thoughts of a full meal had disappeared. Had Neil committed financial suicide? Hardly.
His largesse spurred ongoing word-of-mouth recommendation, and suddenly everyone was talking about – and visiting – the Leopard.
I was one of scores of people who attended Neil’s funeral in 2010, where tribute was made to his zest for life. We exited from Bradwell Crematorium to the strains of Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made For Walking. It occurred to me that Neil’s boots would take some filling back at the pub he had loved so much.
Burslem History Club – formed in 2000 – used the Leopard as its base from 2007 until the coronavirus lockdown in March of this year. As emcee, it was my great pleasure to introduce some of North Staffordshire’s finest history speakers to our eager audiences – a joy that is now denied to us for the moment.
The Leopard has formerly been the beating heart of Burslem, and I have approached both Historic England and the Georgian Group in order to apprise them of the present threats to its future. Burslem cannot afford to lose a pub of such great historic, architectural and community value.