The Beatles 1. The Pole Star of Popular Music

I was only six years old when the Fab Four came to town, but because I am a life-long fan I was asked by the boss to produce a clutch of features to mark the 50th anniversary . . .

So this is the first of three related articles (the others follow below) about The Beatles having played Shrewsbury Music Hall.

All three articles appeared in the Shropshire Star on Saturday, April 27, 2013.

The Beatles 1. The Pole Star of Popular Music

No. Emphatically NO! Please don’t speak about them in the same breath as JLS or West Life or Take That. We are not today discussing some over-rated boyband.

We are discussing – half a century on from their gigs in Shropshire – the band that would become the pole star of popular music – a fixed brilliant point of light, the constellations of pop stardom charted around them.

In short, people will still be playing the music of The Beatles 100 years from now.

Yet looking here at these old black and white photographs of four young lads from Liverpool, it seems incredible that they would go on to turn pop music on its head.

In not much more than seven years, they created a dazzling catalogue of around 200 songs from A Hard Day’s Night to Norwegian Wood, from Eight Days A Week to Penny Lane, from Across The Universe to Fool On The Hill, from I Saw Her Standing There to The Long and Winding Road.

I was a mere six years of age when I heard, coming out of a tinny transistor radio, Please Please Me, the group’s first number one record.

And I’ve been a fan ever since.

The years rolled by and I went on loving them when they became solo artists. (Hey. I know McCartney’s quality control has dipped alarming on occasion, but such is Paul’s over-arching genius that I’ll defend even some of his most cringe-worthy efforts from the seventies).

But of course John, Paul, George and Ringo were never going to be able to match as individuals what they achieved as a band.

There was the shock of the long hair, the knockabout humour and warmth of their movies, the being cheeky to Her Majesty, the strange moustaches, experimenting with Indian music, going weird, being scruffy, and a legacy of 13 extraordinary albums.

Just think about this embarrassment of riches. Should you ever tire of the White Album, Sgt Pepper and Abbey Road, just go back to the very beginning of it all and listen again to those early LPs. Because their early spontaneity is equal in merit to their late sophistication.

Check out the boisterous rock and roll. Enjoy again those harmonies, those infectious tunes.

Charming, witty, self-mocking, irreverent, clever, and super-abundant music-makers, The Beatles, were always much more than just a pop group.

And that’s why these old pictures of them in Shrewsbury are so important. Because they show the first flashes and twinkles and sparks of this pole star.

The Beatles 2. Beethoven, Buckingham Palace............... and Bigger than Jesus

The Beatles 2. 
Beethoven, Buckingham Palace, 
and Bigger than Jesus

They were still fresh and full of youthful exuberance, still a little shocked by just how quickly things were moving for them, still surprised and thrilled by the joyous reception they were getting from their fans. And yet there was so much more to come.

When they arrived in Shropshire in that spring of 1963 to play a concert at the Shrewsbury Music Hall, The Beatles' all-conquering global fame was still a good couple of years away. 

But on the other hand, they were not exactly unknown at this point, having just enjoyed their first number one record with Please Please Me - and it seemed that just about everyone in Britain was talking about them.

Their domination of the pop world was just beginning.

On the day they came to Shrewsbury, what would be their second number one, From Me To You, had already begun its 21-week run in the charts and would hit the top spot on May 4 (a position it would keep for seven weeks).  

The four lovable moptops were already taking the entertainment world by storm, but they would surely have laughed at you, if you'd suggested that in a few years time they would have not only streets in Liverpool, but also heavenly bodies named after them: four individual asteroids to be named Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr.

As the lads took to the Music Hall stage that night, they would not have dreamt that just two years later they would be invited to Buckingham Palace to be honoured by the Queen with the presentation of their MBEs.

Nor that just three years later, Lennon would be declaring, not through boastfulness but as a simple sociological observation: “The Beatles are bigger than Jesus Christ”.

And just four years later, the Sunday Times would be calling them ”The greatest composers since Beethoven.”

But even in 1963, people could see this was no ordinary band – even if they were still travelling the length and breadth of the country either by coach or clapped-out old van.

Everywhere they went they generated incredible excitement among the young, and often suspicion and bemusement among protective mums and dads.

This was, incidentally, their third visit to Shrewsbury, having played the town’s Music Hall before on December 14, 1962, and then The Granada on February 28, 1963.

And here’s a fascinating fact: It had been while the Fab Four were travelling by coach between York and Shrewsbury for their Granada concert that John and Paul had written From Me To You. Writing smash hit singles would become second-nature to them.

Another Shropshire date, by the way, had been Whitchurch Town Hall on January 19, 1963.

For the record, other gigs in the Midlands leading up to their 1963 Music Hall date included the Plaza Ballroom at Old Hill in Sandwell, the Birmingham Ritz, the Birmingham Hippodrome, The Gaumont in Wolverhampton, and a couple of dates in Stoke-on-Trent.

Radio and television appearances would quickly accelerate the growth of their fame, then the conquering of America and beyond.

But let us just go back to that Whitchurch appearance for a moment for a personal recollection from Albert Griffiths, 73, a Whitchurch man who remembers that day well.

He said: "They arrived in an old transit, it was as much rust as it was van. At the time we always had great bands performing in Whitchurch on a Saturday night.

"In many ways it was just another gig but there was an extra bit of excitement around The Beatles.

"When they came on stage John Lennon was stood right in front of me. He had that sort of cheeky look on his face and was wearing a pair of really old tatty jeans. I remember it well because he had a safety pin on his fly to hold them up.

"It was a great night. I can't remember most of the songs but I can remember Love Me Do like it was yesterday, it really stood out."

Pam Shaw, from Whitchurch, was also at the show which took place in what is now the Civic Centre, in High Street.

She said: "I was there! I went along like I did to many of the dances but I can remember a lot of people were there to see the Beatles.

"It wasn't Beatlemania, there wasn't people screaming and fainting, but there was a lot of excitement. I can remember being there, dancing and thinking how good they were.

"I really liked them and from that day I started to take a keen interest in them. I even went up to see them at The Cavern Club in Liverpool. From that day I was a big fan and have remained a big fan ever since. It was wonderful."

Councillor Doris Ankers said her late sister, Margaret Raine, met the musicians on the night.

She said: "My sister went and she never let us forget it. They were just a group from Liverpool who came down to play and after the show were talking to the crowd. My sister actually sat by the band and was talking to them, they were just starting to get famous but she always said they were very nice."

Very nice? The Beatles would be called many things in their time: brilliant, innovative, thrilling, ground-breaking, revolutionary . . . and also, as it happens, very nice.

John (the thinker), Paul (the romantic), George (the mystic) and Ringo (the clown) would themselves grow and develop from showbiz stars to spokesmen for their generation.

And 50 years on from their initial success, we’re still talking about them now, they are still making the front covers of serious music magazines, and many of us are still completely under their spell.

The Beatles 3. Their Growing Fame

Beatles 3 - Their Growing Fame

It seems bonkers now, but even with a storming number one record behind them, The Beatles were still travelling the length and breadth of the country either in an ordinary (far from luxurious) coach or in a clapped-out old van.

Did Take That have to suffer such indignity after their first number one?

And despite their already substantial fame at this point, the Fab Four were playing not large venues, but relatively humble places like the Shrewsbury Music Hall.

Again, it’s hard to imagine nowadays a band, at that level of fame, playing quite small theatres.

But what we forget is that in 1963, rock and roll as we know it today was still being invented.

Firstly, there was still a post-war mentality that demanded show business acts (and that is exactly how the Fab Four would have been perceived at this time) had to pay their dues.

They had to go out there and learn their craft – like four little Arthur Askeys or four little Jimmy Tarbucks – playing, to begin with, pubs and church halls and dodgy clubs, then small theatres, and eventually bigger theatres.

Not only were they making records, but they were being interviewed on radio shows (regularly) and TV shows and for magazines. It was all good publicity.

One day, if they were very very good little Beatles and kept their noses clean, they might get the chance to play to bigger audiences, maybe even tour in Australia and Japan. But they would have to pay their dues.

Secondly, it was unheard of at this time for pop groups to play sports arenas.

The age of super-tours with bands taking over football stadia was still some way off.

But it would be The Beatles and groups that followed in their wake that would change all that.

They had already grown from playing purely in the Liverpool area to playing across the UK.

1964 would prove a turning point.

They began the year with 10 appearances in London. Then it was off to Paris for 20 shows. And then America.

Their appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show have become the stuff of legend. This was considered a milestone in American culture and the beginning of what would become known as ‘the British invasion’.

And in the summer of 1964 they played 25 concerts across the United States and Canada. There was no stopping them now.

Gradually, the sound systems were becoming more sophisticated. Rock fans were developing an appetite for bigger concerts and outdoor festivals.

Although there were still British tours to come for The Beatles, the likes of the Shrewsbury Music Hall would not see them again.

The people of Shropshire would now have to watch from afar as the rest of The Beatles’ story unfolded.

Shrewsbury Market and the Fair-haired Goddess

There was once a lovely, fair-haired goddess who worked at a stall in Shrewsbury Market. And without saying a word, she stole my heart.

This was a few years ago now.

The Prime Minister at the time was Edward Heath. British Leyland had just launched its new Austin Allegro range of family saloon cars, Princess Anne had announced her engagement to Mark Phillips, and the pop charts were full of records by the likes of The Sweet, Slade, Wizzard, 10cc, and a young and innovative David Bowie . . . oh, and Little Jimmy Osmond.

A golden age indeed.

I never found out the fair-haired goddess's name because I never plucked up the courage to speak to her.

I was a painfully shy 16-year-old. She would have been about the same age.

And forty years later, she remains one of my abiding memories of the market hall at that time.

Anyway . . .

My mother-in-law the other day asked me: "Have you been in the market lately?"

I had to admit that it was not a place I frequented these days, although I had heard good reports from my young sons who like its quirkiness and the many surprises it offers.

So I took it upon myself to pop in there on Saturday.

It really is rather fantastic.

The place was buzzing (which I hadn't expected). It was actually packed with customers.

A few years back it had become a rather neglected, slightly sad place with empty spaces where stalls once operated. Now, however, there's hardly a square foot that isn't busy. And it's wonderful to see.

I was really quite amazed at the variety of stalls and the choice of goods on offer.

There's classic Corgi toys, antiques and collectables, original artwork, kitchen equipment, bicycles and cycle accessories, garden plants, masses of fruit and veg, meat and fish and eggs, games, books, vinyl records (thousands of them), CDs, rugs, framed pictures, greetings cards, gift wrap, helium balloons, plates, ornaments, baking accessories, toys for your pet, belts and leather goods, American comicbooks, cushions, posters, needlecraft goods, hats, bags, and much, much more besides.

There's even a seafood and oyster bar!

Mother-in-law had been impressed by the Market Buffet so I decided to call in for a bite. I had a nice stilton and brocolli quiche with chips and salad, along with a frothy coffee. Just the job.

The very pleasant lady who served me recognised me from that rather  handsome photograph which accompanies this column and said some nice things about my weekly scribblings in the Shrewsbury Chronicle. Bless her!

And then it turned out that she had also known me years ago.

Yeah. I know what you're thinking. But no. This lady was not my fair-haired goddess from 1973, but what a story that would have been. What a novel that would make! I must develop that idea one day.

But no. It was simply that she had lived next door to us when we lived in Castlefields and she could clearly remember myself and my little brother and our mum and dad.

Small world.

Shrewsbury Market has been transformed recently: both its exterior and interior. It's had a good scrub down and, although I've never been a fan of the sixties architecture, it looks a heck of a lot better for a good bath.

It has a strong modern logo now which even adorns the high quality Shrewsbury Market carrier bags on sale.

The huge space inside is cleverly divided up into a network of intimate avenues and corners, the whole place made more pleasant by the green and cream canopies over the stalls and the Dickensian street lamps adding an old world charm.

All in all, I have fallen in love with the market again, even though that fair-haired goddess has long since gone.

The Castle Inn and Old Pubs in General

No matter how poor their condition might be, no matter how unloved they may have become, it's always sad when an old pub closes, and even sadder when they are swept away by bulldozers.

Even your ten-a-penny Victorian pub (and there will be thousands of them up and down the country) will have seen 150 or so years of history.

Just think of all those people, down through the decades, who will have gone there to celebrate or to drown their sorrows - or just to put the world to rights with a few friends.

So, yeah, I was a little sad, for instance, when the Hen and Chickens in Coleham bit the dust not so long ago.

I had enjoyed a few pints in there over the years - many of them with our dad, God rest his soul.

Having said all that, I rather like the smart and elegant building which has taken its place, by the way. At the risk of infuriating many of my fellow pub lovers, I might even go so far as to say, architecturally, the new (mock Victorian) building is probably a huge improvement on the ill-fated Hen and Chicks.

But I digress.

A number of local pubs will have fallen victim (as countless others have across the nation) to the competition presented by cheap drink from the supermarkets, changing demographics, and people increasingly nowadays staying at home and watching the telly (or home cinema) rather than going down the local.

I think Shrewsbury has actually weathered this storm rather well, actually, with surprisingly few pubs going under.

But one pub whose fate is still in the lap of the gods, it seems, is The Castle Inn in Coleham. You know the one I mean. The one that is set well back from Belle Vue Road but which could also be approached from its Peace Cottages side. Some people call it the back-to-front pub because it appears to be facing the wrong way. This is because the Peace Cottages side was originally the main road, but then later, Belle Vue Road became the principal route through the suburb.

Anyway, my own memories of this particular watering hole include being there on a few occasions when live rock music was on offer. And I was with our dad and my father-in-law there one night and they absolutely hated the music, pleading with me to finish off my pint so we could move on somewhere quieter.

It's been boarded up now for a good few years with no sign of anyone doing anything with it.

According to 'A Heritage of Old Inns and Taverns of Shrewsbury' by Derek Row, The Castle Inn was previously called The Windsor Castle and then, later, The Bull and Pump, and as such was recorded from 1780.

It doesn't look anything like that old, but then a lot of these pubs are much older than they look, having had various extensions and alterations made over the years.

From 1856 it was called The Castle Inn and it adjoined an old mansion once called The Gibralter. (Yeah. I know. Answers on a postcard please).

The place was auctioned by one WM Smith (not to be confused with WH Smith) in January 1820. At that time it comprised five chambers, two parlours, a kitchen, one scullery, pantry, brew-house, excellent vaults, large stables and other outbuildings, yard piggery and good garden with a pump.

I can only imagine that the yard piggery, the garden, the outbuildings and the stables were cleared a century or more later to allow for the parking of these new-fangled motor cars. . . the place has boasted a large car park for  some time.

In 1874 to 1882 the premises were owned by William Hazledine of The Woodlands in Abbey Foregate and then Shrewsbury's Trouncers Brewery (their old headquarters are now luxury flats on Kingsland Road) took over the ownership until the 1900s.

What I love about history is the way in which everything interconnects. Just then, did you notice? William Hazledine. The Woodlands in Abbey Foregate. Trouncers Brewery. The Castle Inn. It's like joining up the dots, and as you do so, it all comes to life.

Later into the 1900s it was owned by Shrewsbury and Wem Breweries.

In the 1960s through to the 1980s it was a centre for folk music.

Doubtless, there will be plenty of readers with their own memories of The Castle Inn and I would dearly love to hear from you.

Recycling? Bring on Captain Cardboard!

Smarties tubes, tissue boxes, Shredded Wheat cartons, the boxes that sachets of Whiskas cat food come in, those stiff envelopes that amazon send you CDs in, old birthday cards, old post cards, packaging for a thousand different products . . . it's all cardboard.

You know what I'm talking about; the stuff that the council no longer picks up from your home as part of its recycling service.
As I read last week of angry environmental campaigners having a go at Shropshire Council over this matter, I was reminded of a Jason Falkner song in which there is a heartfelt plea to the garbage man – 'Why don't you leave my street?' he asks, wondering why the garbage man seems to be around all the time. Falkner sings: How can this street possibly excrete this much trash seven days a week?
And I have no doubt that we've all asked ourselves that about our own streets from time to time, especially as we roll out the wheelie bin packed to overflowing. Where does it all come from?
But at least we feel a little bit better knowing that our glass, our tins and cans, and our paper, will be recycled.
Not so long ago we felt even better because we knew that our cardboard was also going to a better place.
But then things changed and, all of a sudden, the council was no longer taking our cardboard away.
Now, we have two options. Take our cardboard ourselves to a recycling facility or just dump it in the wheelie bin with the non-recyclable rubbish.
Human nature being what it is, I think we always knew how this was going to pan out.

Frank Oldaker, from Shrewsbury Friends of the Earth, said the authority should 'hang its head in shame' following the decision not to reinstate collections - as well as its other decision to cut the opening hours at Shropshire's five recycling centres.
Funny. It sometimes seems an awfully long time ago now, but it was actually only November 2011 (so not that long ago) when Shropshire Council axed kerbside cardboard 
collections, forcing thousands of residents to drop off their cardboard at one of the recycling centres or else, as I say, simply dump it in their wheelie bin.
As always of course, there are two sides to any story.
To be fair to council chiefs, they had been looking at ways of bringing back the kerbside collections, but it was revealed earlier this month that a variety of alternative methods had been ruled out as either too expensive or simply unworkable.
To top it all, though, it was further announced that the opening hours at the county's five recycling centres will be cut from March in a bid to save £50,000 a year.
Yeah. It all comes down to money in the end.
Economies have to be made. Belts have to be tightened.
Mr Oldacre said he was furious at the decisions and added: “When other councils do collect and there is obvious enthusiasm by residents and a market, why not try harder?”
Shropshire Council's cabinet member for waste management, Mike Owen, said: “We understand people's disappointment that, due to a change in national regulations, we can't currently collect cardboard from the kerbside.”
I've no doubt they do understand. Just a heck of a pity they cannot do anything about it.
It will surprise no-one that cardboard recycling rates have taken a tumble in Shropshire since those kerbside collections were axed.
In fact, recycling rates have dropped by almost 60 per cent. That's an awful lot of Smartie tubes and Shredded Wheat cartons.
Last year, 1,676 tonnes of cardboard was dropped off at household recycling centres and cardboard banks across the county. But according to previous figures from Shropshire Council and its waste contractor Veolia, a whopping 4,000 tonnes was collected from kerbsides each year before the service was axed. That's quite a difference.
Councillors and their officers really need to take another look at this at the earliest opportunity because this is serious stuff. This is about carbon footprints and energy-saving and looking after our immediate environment as well as our wider environment.

Over in the States, meanwhile, climate expert Dr Eugene Cordero thinks a whole range of issues such as the disposal of rubbish and its relationship to climate change needs a superhero. He has come up with a character to inspire youngsters to take better care of their environment.

Enter the Green Ninja, the not-very-talkative martial arts master who whips up all sorts mayhem to teach young minds about the aforementioned carbon footprints and energy-saving strategies as well as gas-guzzling leaf blowers.

You know what?

Perhaps Shropshire also needs a super hero, and (however unsexy it may sound) his or her first job could be to re-introduce kerbside collections of cardboard.

Bring on Captain Cardboard!

Barking mad ideas for Shrewsbury

There have been some barking mad ideas put forward over the years in terms of 'improving' Shrewsbury.

Here's just a few:

Barking mad idea number one: Renaming Shrewsbury as Shrewsbury-upon-Severn. You know? Like Stratford-upon-Avon? This was suggested in the early 1990s. As if centuries of tradition can be overturned on a public relations whim. It would bring in more tourists, they said. Really? Would it really? Happily, the idea was quickly forgotten.

Barking mad idea number two: Sticking a spire on top of the 900-year-old Abbey Church to, er, make it more attractive. No, I'm sure I didn't dream this outlandish suggestion. I recall seeing an artist's impression of this, drawn up about 20 years ago. Who are these people? I mean, really. Who are these people?

Barking Mad idea number three: City status for Shrewsbury. Why? Shrewsbury is a wonderful, beautiful town. What's to be gained by being a city?

Barking Mad idea number four: In the sixites (and, boy, does that decade have a lot to answer for?) someone (around the time of the Beeching axe falling upon our railway network) seriously suggested sweeping away our magnificent Victorian railway station and replacing it with a 'modern' construction of concrete and glass. If that had got the go-ahead, I would have settled for nothing less than the perpetrators being tied to a railway line and run over by a 50-truck freight train - three times!

It's reassuring to know that none of the above ever got beyond the barking mad suggestion stage.

However, plenty of barking mad suggestions DO gain credibility and DO eventually get the go-ahead.

For instance, the highly controversial plan to bring forward the frontages of several shops at Princess House in The Square has brought another barking mad idea to mind.

This current scheme may well be thought of as barking mad in its own right by many a protester (and I myself am not thrilled by the idea), but it is not this plan, in itself, to which I refer.

Bickering about the exact proportions of Princess House seems almost trivial in a sense. Because Princess House should never have been allowed in the first place.

This soulless stack of shoeboxes was parachuted down into Shrewsbury's otherwise gorgeous historic Square in the early seventies, replacing (almost unbelievably) the grand Italian-style Shirehall, designed by Sir Robert Smirke and completed in 1837.

Oh, and please don't try telling me, by the way, that the street-level sections of this fine building could not have been tastefully converted into shop units. This kind of thing has been done in plenty of other towns and cities up and down the country. It could have been done in Shrewsbury too.

But no. They had to go and smash the old Shirehall down, didn't they?

Just like they smashed down the Victorian market hall and the Crown Hotel and the Raven Hotel and the George Hotel. 

And then, as if this vandalism were not enough, they thought: Okay, what shall we put in The Square now to replace that old Italian-style place? Oh, I know. How about a building like the ones they have in Milton Keynes? That'll look really good!

And there we have it. My fifth example to add to my list of barking mad ideas.

And now we come to that notion of bringing forward the shop fronts by five feet, a notion that is to go before the Secretary of State in the coming weeks before a final decision is made by the Department of Transport.

The developers who want to extend the shops (thus getting rid of the 'overhang' which currently exists beyond the front doors and above a few feet of pavement space) think this would make the shops more attractive to customers, more visible to shoppers, and a better proposition for traders, changing the minds of those businesses that might otherwise abandon The Square.

The protesters say the move would swallow up much-needed pavement space, especially as there will be (they say) an extra 200,000 visitors each year when the new ShrewsburyMuseum opens at the old Music Hall. It could also, they say, seriously compromise big crowd-pulling events like the Christmas lights switch-on.

I have to say my sympathies are firmly with the protesters on this one.

But, as I say, we should never have ended up with Princess House in the first place.

Meanwhile, for further insights, may I direct readers to Pauline Fisk's excellent blog, My Tonight From Shrewsbury? Visit: http://mytonightfromshrewsbury.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/public-inquiry-stopping-up-overhang-at.html

Lulu in the nude - and when the stars came to Shrewsbury

“I got quite a shock, I can tell you. But she seemed completely unperterbed,”  So explains John Holding as he tells me of the day he saw pop star Lulu in the nude.
“Well, to be accurate, she wasn’t completely in the nude, but she wasn’t wearing very much at all, let’s put it that way.”
John worked at Shrewsbury’s principal hotels during the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s - “the golden age” as he likes to say - when showbusiness royalty frequented the county town, the big names of the day performing at The Granada or The Music Hall.
“Lulu would have been in her twenties at the time and on this occasion  she had a bit of a sore throat and had requested a drink of honey and lemon. So I walked into her room with this honey and lemon and there she was sitting there topless. She obviously thought nothing of it. She just asked me to leave the drink on the table and that was that.”
John was at Shrewsbury’s famous Lion Hotel at this time, and before joining the staff of the Lion, he had worked at the much-missed Raven Hotel in Castle Street. During those years he served as apprentice chef, porter, head porter and hotel manager, and he talks of those times with tremendous affection.
During this period he met and greeted Morcambe and Wise, Cliff Richard, Max Bygraves, Lionel Blair, song and dance man Frankie Vaughan, Adam Faith, Coronation Street’s Elsie Tanner, Diddy David Hamilton, jazz legends Acker Bilk and Kenny Ball, TV celebrity and game show host Hughie Green, singing stars Helen Shapiro, David Whitfield and Petula Clarke, and the great comedian Tony Hancock.
Every one of them experienced the warm welcome, friendliness and professionalism of the ever-enthusiastic John, a man clearly proud of having served the public (as well as the showbusiness elite) over many years.
I first interviewed John back in 2001 and bumped into him again recently. Because he has had such a colourful career and because he has much to say about the Shrewsbury of yesteryear compared to the Shrewsbury of today, we thought it would be good to get together for another chat. 
And when it comes to chat, believe me, there is no stopping this man!
Only one of John’s showbiz-related memories has been forever tarnished by recent revelations and that is his meeting with Jimmy Savile.
“He was doing a Lands End to John O’Groats cycle ride at the time. I had got him to sign in at The Lion. So he comes sweeping in: ‘Ah, good evening young man!’ he says. So I pass him the book to sign in and he writes straight across the page: ‘Jimmy Savile was here!’ Of course, at that time, everyone thought he was a lovely man. And the next morning, everyone was clapping and waving him off. Ah, well.”
John, who lives on Sunnybank Road, Shrewsbury, with his wife Beryl, and who also dotes upon his stepson Mike and stepdaughter Sue, is 73 and soon to retire, having spent the last six and half years working at Sainsbury’s.
He spent four years at The Raven, those last four years before it closed in 1959. “Nowadays there would have been uproar that such a beautiful old building with so much history should be under threat of demolition. Nowadays, you see, it would have been saved and would be the equivalent of The Grosvenor in Chester, a place where people would simply have to go to have their coffee and scones. The head waiters back in the golden age wore white gloves. It was a wonderful place.”
“We just haven’t got that quality any more. We haven’t got the etiquette any more. Every customer at The Raven would have his cases carried for him. I was in stripes and coat-tails. I’m talking about a time when Shrewsbury had the Wildings store across the road in Castle Street, Modelia’s ladies clothes shop, Morris’s restaurant on Pride Hill, and the lovely old Granada which had a superb restaurant upstairs. There was Sidoli’s across the road from The Raven. He was another gentleman with a lot of etiquette. Those days are gone.”
John, like me, also mourns the loss of the Victorian market hall and The George Hotel (although I don’t remember either of these myself and know them only from old photographs). Both, had they survived, would surely have been assets now in a beautiful old town like Shrewsbury.
But why does Shrewsbury no longer attract the big stars (even with its spanking new Theatre Severn?)
John says simply: “It’s a different age now. I’m not sure we have stars of that calibre any more.”

Harvey, Elwood P Dowd, and Shelton Hospital

Shrewsbury’s rather grand, certainly imposing, and perhaps even just a little bit frightening Shelton Hospital is facing an uncertain future.

It will eventually be reborn as something, but no-one is quite sure what.

Shropshire’s one-time lunatic asylum is now likely to lie redundant over the next three years because, say health bosses, any future use of the building has been ‘hampered’ by the poor economic climate.

The old place, founded in 1843, was closed down in September as the town’s new £46 million Redwoods Centre opened, the latter being a 112-bed facility which looks every inch the ultra-modern ‘mental health village’, a 21st century replacement for the Victorian hospital.

Now then. What do you think of when you picture a Victorian mental hospital?

Undoubtedly, some ‘treatments’ carried out there 100 years ago would now be seen as appalling and primitive, but knowledge and understanding of mental health was not of course what it is today. And the public’s attitudes also took a long time to change.

To our everlasting shame, Shelton Hospital (along with just about every other mental health hospital around the world) was the butt of jokes for generations.

I well remember the kids at our school laughing about ‘the loony-bin’ and pointing at anyone who was a little bit different, mocking them and saying they had escaped from Shelton.

Almost unbelievably, this ‘brand of humour’ continued for some into adult life.

As an antidote to such cruelty, may I recommend the wonderful 1950 James Stewart film, Harvey, a movie which is kind, sympathetic, gentle and compassionate in its treatment of the central character, Elwood P Dowd.

Elwood, played with such grace, charm and warmth by Stewart, has an invisible friend who just happens to be a six-foot tall rabbit called Harvey.

Only Elwood (and a few privileged others on occasion) can see Harvey, a benign spirit.

Dowd’s sister tries to commit him to a mental institution (which, if memory serves, looks uncannily like Shelton Hospital) and a comedy of errors ensues. Harvey and Elwood become the catalyst for a family healing its wounds and for romance blossoming in the most unexpected places.

Yes, yes, yes. I know this is a sprightly comedy from 60 years ago and, you may say, has little or nothing to do with mental health care in 2012, but I still think it has plenty to teach us about how we human beings treat one another.

For a more informed view of things, I spoke to my brother Tony, himself a mental health nurse who is Clinical Manager of Worcestershire Early Intervetnion Service, and who worked at Shelton Hospital from 1983 to 1986.

“I have fond memories of Shelton Hospital which is a very beautiful building in very beautiful grounds.” he said. “It had its own little farm and so, to some extent, the place was self-contained and self-sufficient.

Cricket

“They had a cricket ground and the patients would have their own cricket team and the staff would have their own cricket team and they would have matches regularly.

“To be a nurse there at that time it was considered an advantage either to play cricket or to play a musical instrument because they also had a band and had regular dances there.

“It was very much a self-contained community.

“Of course in Victorian times these places were designed to be self-contained. It was an institution so people who were admitted there often ended up living there their whole lives.

And often the staff also would stay there for years and their children would eventually become staff there so you would have generations of people who had worked at the same place.

“By the time I was there in the 1980s there was beginning to be a shift towards more community care and less emphasis on people staying in the hospitals.

“It’s been a very gradual process. But the move has been increasingly towards seeing mental illness as a treatable thing and that people can continue to live in the community and live normal lives.

“Today there is a minimum number of in-patient beds in our hospitals and attitudes have changed massively over the years.

“So in a way the history of Shelton Hospital is the history of attitudes towards mental illness.”

Perhaps, since Victorian times, we have simply become a much more understanding society. Perhaps, in a nutshell, we have (generally speaking) become nicer people.

It’s pleasant to think so, anyway.

And talking of ‘pleasant’, the last word should surely go to Elwood P. Dowd.

“Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say: ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be’ – she always called me Elwood – ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’

“Well, for years I was smart.

“I recommend pleasant . . .

“You may quote me.”

Beat of the New Year Drum

The pretty twinkling fairylights of Christmas are once again being switched off beneath the grey, grey skies of January, and we all must march on – hopefully with optimism, a sense of excitement, and a spring in our step – into another new year packed to overflowing with possibilities.

But before we do, let’s just have a sneaky look over our shoulders at some of the memorable moments Shrewsbury offered us during 2012, focusing on just a few of the quirky subjects covered in this Shrewsbury Matters column over the past few months.

The Shrewsbury Coffee House, a place I revisited again this weekend with some of the family, seems, on the face of it, an unlikely venue for gigs because it’s really quite small. But back in July I went along there with our youngest son to witness the barking mad and brilliantly talented band, Sheelanagig, who play a sort of crazy, high-energy Eastern European folk music with lyrics about witches, vampires and monsters.

It was a cracking, unforgettable evening in this lovely little establishment on Castle Gates.

The night proved the Coffee House can stage superb gigs, but it’s also a super place to pop into during the daytime for perhaps a latte and a slice of cake.

Theatre Severn: I was moved to write a piece about our much-criticised theatre simply because the rumbles of discontent had continued into the summer of 2012.

While acknowledging that there were serious misgivings still being voiced about its design, its site in Frankwell, and its programme of attractions, I had a suspicion that we, the people of Shrewsbury, would eventually grow to love it.

Having said that, it really isn’t the prettiest theatre in the country, now is it? And from the back (viewed from the pedestrian bridge across the river) it looks like a factory from the 1930s.

But I very much like the interior and I’ve had some terrific evenings there.

The Music Hall – with its commanding position in The Square and its rich history – is never far from our thoughts, and the tremendous renovation that is currently going on there is awe-inspiring. I was lucky enough to take part in a tour of the Music Hall (they hold these for members of the public from time to time) and was given an insight into exactly what is going on there.

Our guide that day – the excellent Tim Jenkins from the Museums Service – told us of the many engineering headaches encountered along the way, as this exciting £10 million project continues to progress.

And he explained that what will eventually become a state-of-the-art museum and gallery for Shrewsbury and for Shropshire as a whole, actually comprises several different buildings from several different eras.

There’s the Victorian theatre, the 13th century Vaughan’s Mansion, there’s a medieval passageway running between the remains of two Georgian houses, and even a nuclear bunker from the days of the Cold War.

I have no doubt this is going to be a place of which Shrewsbury can be justly proud.

Besford House was a hobbyhorse of mine last year, revisiting the subject several times as its fate remained in the balance.

This is a handsome Victorian mansion in Trinity Street in Belle Vue and is best remembered as a boys’ home, a role it had for much of the 20th century.

There was a plan to demolish the place to make way for modern housing.

Like many others, I thought such a plan to be horrendous. We are talking about a fine old building in a conservation area.

Thankfully, common sense (as they say) prevailed, and Besford House’s future now looks to be safe.

Phew!

Old shops in the town centre proved to be a topic that prompted many memories. I happened to mention one week my own fond memories of Standish Taylor, Wildings, Maddox’s department store and Owen Owen.

Well, the letters and emails came pouring in. It seems everyone has their own memories of the dear old town.

Other subjects touched upon last year were The Flax Mill (and what a long-drawn-out saga that has been) with ambitious plans for the future of what has been, for decades, a sad wreck of a place in Ditherington; our splendid railway station and the poor condition of some of its platforms and forgotten corners; and the revamp of The Albert Hotel on Smithfield Road.

The Folk Festival proved another fantastic success this year and has established itself as a jewel in the crown of Shrewsbury’s cultureal life.

We looked with interest at a scheme to replace some bland sixties flats in Abbey Foregate with much more attractive dwellings, and we said farewell to the 1920s  Ditherington Bus Depot.

Stagecoaches came to the town in October whilst in November, upon what would have been its 90th anniversary, I paid a personal tribute to the Empire cinema in Mardol.

Happy New Year!

Shrewsbury was Made for Christmas

Shrewsbury was made for Christmas. Don't let anyone tell you anything different. 

It wasn't made as a place in which the young Charles Darwin could grow up to become one of the most important people on the planet. (Although it turned out to be this as well). 

And it wasn't made as a place in which a wealth of beautiful and historic buildings can be enjoyed within the horseshoe bend of the River Severn. (Although it turned out to be this as well). 

And it wasn't made, in the late nineteenth century, as one of Britain's great railway centres. (Although it was certainly this as well).

No. Not a bit of it! First and foremost, above and beyond everything else, it was made for Christmas.

It you don't believe me, just ask Santa.

For me this fact is emphasised every December.

“So, Phil,” I hear you ask. “Just exactly what has made you so Christmassy all of a sudden?”

Well, it's like this.

Our weekend began with a trip to see my Kidderminster-dwelling younger brother and his wife and family. 

“But just hang on a minute, Phil. I thought this column was supposed to be about Shrewsbury, not Kidderminster,” I hear you say.

Well, yes, dear reader, that's true, but you did want to know why I'm feeling Christmassy and I'm just trying to answer your question.

“Oh, all right then,” I hear you concede.

So anyway. Our wives and my niece went off and did some Christmas shopping, leaving my brother and I to join up with a bunch of his drinking pals and we set off from Kidderminster railway station to have a leisurely afternoon/early evening pub crawl in Worcester.

“Hang on a minute, Phil,” I hear you interrupt again. “I thought this column was supposed to be about Shrewsbury, not Worcester.”

Look, I'll never get this story finished if you don't pipe down.

A goodly number of pubs (and a goodly number of pints later) and we were definitely full of the Christmas spirit - although (younger generation please take note), not for one minute did any of us become loud or raucous or anti-social. Rather, we remained the same good-mannered, softly spoken and courteous middle-aged gentlemen who had first boarded the train in Kidderminster some hours before.

My wife and I returned to Shrewsbury the following day. (“Ah, Shrewsbury at last,” I hear you say. “We thought for a moment we were reading Kidderminster Matters!”

Oh, do be quiet, dear reader.

Anyway, we wrapped a few presents, wrote a few cards, and then joined my mother-in-law for a Christingle service at the United Reformed Church in Abbey Foregate.

When they dimmed the lights and all the little children stood in candlelight singing Away in a Manger, I knew Christmas had arrived.

It would have been nice to have little children of our own with us, but our three are all grown up and they would have just looked silly queuing up for their Christingles.

But, you know what? Let it get a little colder. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Because this is what it's all about.

You don't have to be religious in any conventional sense (or in any sense at all) to be moved by the spirit of Christmas. You may well have decided that, intellectually, you cannot disagree with a single sentence of Professor Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion'. You might think that Christianity (or any faith, come to that) is daft. But let me put in a word here for magic. Feel the magic. Allow yourself to drink in the wonder of it all.

This is how it is for me:

Walking across the English Bridge on a cold, star-spangled Saturday night, the moonlight reflected in the waters of the Severn, I hear the incoming Aberystwyth train slowing upon its approach into Shrewsbury Station, I see families hurrying home - mums, dads, children - carrying their bags full of goodies. 

And I think, at Christmas time, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.

Because Shrewsbury was made for Christmas.

Jennings and The Legacy of Wakeman School

Petrified paintpots! Crystallised cheesecakes! What a super-wacko-sonic idea! At least that’s how young Jennings might have reacted to the way in which Shrewsbury’s Wakeman School is readying itself to leave our county town a fantastic artistic legacy.

Sadly, though, this is not 1954 and we are not all living inside one of Anthony Buckeridge’s joyously innocent schoolboy adventures where Jennings and his loyal best friend Darbishire get up to all sorts of jolly japes and enthuse about things in language unrecognisable to today’s 12-year-olds.

Crystallised cheesecakes indeed.

Nowadays, certain specimens of our youngsters are more likely to respond to the Wakeman’s fine idea with a grunt of disinterest as they continue to play on their all-consuming computer games – or even more likely would simply text their reaction in words which aren’t actually words at all because (like a second-hand box of Scrabble) they’re missing so many letters.

But the school just over the English Bridge deserves praise, and not just a grunt of praise or a text message of praise.

Because a massive new public art project, using some gorgeous work made by hundreds of current and former Wakeman School pupils will be the school’s parting gift to the town.

Prooving (if proof were needed) that whether we’re discussing the era of Jennings or today’s generation, we have always been blessed with plenty of gifted and creative youngsters.

The school is to close in August 2013 (its 75th anniversary year, as it happens) as part of wider changes to education provision across Shropshire.

This newly-announced arts project, an inspired and ambitious initiative, will see ceramic artwork (created by students over the past 30 years) installed in some of Shrewsbury’s most famous buildings, as well as on bricked-up windows around town.

Brainchild of Wakeman art director Mike Griffiths, it is hoped the first pieces of this artwork will be placed by early next year, each one framed in 4ft by 3ft frames.

It’s a cracking idea, and I can’t wait to see the artwork appearing around the town.

Almost inexplicably, I’ve always had a soft spot for the old Wakeman. It’s not as if I went there. When I was a boy, the Wakeman was an old-fashioned grammar school and I was considered not clever enough for such an institution. However, our big brother went there and I can still remember his bottle green blazer with that distinctive badge on the breast pocket – the letter W and the three leopards’ faces – or loggerheads as they are known.

When each of our three sons reached that age when they were considering which secondary school to attend, and all the schools in town held open evenings for prospective pupils and their parents, I made of point of visiting the Wakeman with our lads, mainly because I rather liked the look of the place myself. It’s a splendid building in a lovely location next to the river; its classrooms are large, its staircases wide. But it also seemed cosy to me, homely almost. Not like the sprawling shoeboxes they built in the fifties and sixties.

Anyway. My own tastes, as it happened, amounted to nothing, and our three chose another school instead.

Nevertheless, my own quiet admiration for the place has continued.

And this farewell gesture from the pupils is a great idea.

Mike Griffiths, who has been teaching at the school since 1982, said almost 4,000 pupils had made ceramic pieces over the years, with about 1,000 stored at the school. Rather than just throwing them away (surely unthinkable!) when the school closes next summer, this work will be displayed around the town for generations to come.

The project is called The Look Up Trail.

Each year since he joined the school, Mr Griffiths has sent out all Year 9 pupils into Shrewsbury (urging them to look up) to sketch the town’s buildings before then making ceramic tiles of windows, chimneys, doorways and doorknockers. Mr Griffiths said he had been captivated by the beauty of Shrewsbury and he wanted to pass on the ability to appreciate its character to his pupils.

He said the trail will cement links between the school, its pupils and the town.

“Whether they are 16 or 47, the beauty will be there and in years to come, some people will be walking around the town and come across the Wakeman Trail and say: ‘I did that one, that’s one of mine’,” he said. “That would be everything I want the trail to do.”

What a nice thought.

And Mr Griffiths added: “When it is all finished we will have a Wakeman Trail leaflet at museum centres or the library. It is called the Look Up project because that is what I have been encouraging the children to do. It is our gift to Shrewsbury. It is probably unique – I don’t think there will be anything like this anywhere else in the country.”

Well. Hearty congratulations to everyone involved in this project, pupils past and present, the two funding providers – the Wakeman Parents Association and the Local Joint Committee – and of course Mr Griffiths.

Like I said to begin with: Petrified Paintpots!