York Stories

‘It’s all connected’, revisited

Lisa @YorkStories — Fri, 05 Dec 2014 20:00:28 +0000

Writing about Scarborough Bridge reminded me of an earlier page on this site. One compiled, coincidentally, two years ago today, 5 Dec 2012. I’d been thinking for some time about different versions of ‘our city’. I still am. More on that later perhaps. For now, here’s a short section of the video it discusses. I love the way he talks about Scarborough Bridge.

By Scarborough Bridge

(At 5 mins 47 secs if my carefully-cued code doesn’t start at the right place)

The links had stopped working on the earlier page as the video seems to have moved. This has now been fixed and my links relinked. The other clips include places recently discussed, including the Hiscox site, which was previously the site of the Peasholme Centre, and the Central Methodist Church, where Carecent is based. It also includes the full video. More here.

I’ve also been reminded of another video I watched back then, meant to mention, never did. It was filmed in a fairly small area near the Arc Light centre on Clarence Street, and again includes buildings I’ve covered on these pages. The boarded-up nurses’ accommodation in Bootham Park (since demolished) feature prominently, as does the front of Groves Chapel (still there) and Clarence Gardens. It’s proper local, conveys an important message, and is very nicely done.

It reminded of this video, also mentioned on this site before, some time back. It was filmed in the same area many years earlier (2001). Towards the end of the video above we saw a man sitting on a park bench in Clarence Gardens. This one starts with a more famous man, Rick Witter of Shed Seven, sitting in the same park. It then moves through the local area, the lane between the hospitals, Gillygate (before it had the large St John’s building at the end), Bootham, Bootham Park.

Many observations could be made about these creative representations of place. I’ll just leave them with you. There’s also that page from two years ago, which may be of interest. I hope so.

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We’re off to Hornsea Pottery

Lisa @YorkStories — Tue, 28 May 2013 22:52:26 +0000

After the Wallace Arnold bus trip of the 1950s, time for a 1960s/70s visit to Hornsea.

Or rather, to Hornsea Pottery, which was perhaps the only reason anyone went to Hornsea, unless they lived there.

The pottery was really famous in its day. We went there, but I can’t remember anything about it, and don’t remember it being as exciting as this. Perhaps we found the attraction part too crowded and ended up looking at crockery for hours. Anyway, the film is a delight, only short, a couple of ads, viewable via this page on the Yorkshire Film Archive website

The housewife of the 1950s has escaped from the kitchen, only to buy more things for it, as she’s browsing the shelves in the pottery shop. Accompanied by a lovely jolly song — which I now can’t get out of my head — so be warned, the same may happen to you. ‘We’re off to Hornsea Pottery, a wonderful place to go, Hip hip hooray, there’s nothing to pay, for lots and lots of treats you know.’

The 1960s couple look much happier than the 1950s couple in the Wallace Arnold film. This is of course because it’s the 1960s, which were groovy and swinging, with couples sharing long sandwiches in a slightly saucy way in public.

Then on to the 1970s (pictured above). The innocent singing replaced by a confident manly voiceover: ‘This is the place to visit’, and the slick Capri pulling up in the car park. We’re in colour now and in a Capri, but we haven’t yet escaped the traditional roles: ‘Pottery shops for mum to browse round, and a well-stocked garden centre for dad.’

Time to head back to York now, but I hope everyone enjoyed the excursion.

. . . . .

Image used with permission from the Yorkshire Film Archive.

More info, elsewhere on the web

Information on these ads and the history of Hornsea Pottery (sadly no longer in business) on the YFA page for the film linked to above (under Context) and in this PDF.
Hornsea Museum’s pages on Hornsea Pottery

It is now the site of Hornsea Freeport shopping village

Tag(s): film, Hornsea

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1957: a day away, from the YFA

Lisa @YorkStories — Tue, 28 May 2013 22:30:50 +0000

Summer’s nearly here, it’s Whit week/half term, time to think about a trip to the seaside perhaps?

Vintage is much in vogue, but back in the fifties it wasn’t all pretty dresses, handsome curvy cars, and jiving. It was domestic hell from which we ladies had to escape. On a Wallace Arnold bus trip, as depicted in this film, another gem from the Yorkshire Film Archive.

The ironic commentary extols the joys of being a wife and mother while simultaneously depicting various domestic disasters: broken crockery, baby covered in food, TV breaking down. An interesting, amusing, and in its own way quietly subversive depiction of 1950s ‘domestic bliss’.

After you’d folded up all your clean white laundry, which you’d probably just spent the entire week laundering laboriously in the twin tub, hubby would come in with oily hands, drop a bit of car engine on the kitchen table, and rudely shove your laundry out of the way with his big oily mitts.

Only one thing to do ladies – jump on a Wallace Arnold bus to Scarborough. Via York.

We end up in York at around 5 minutes into the film. We drive up Museum St, towards scaffolding on the Minster (west end, rather than east, back then) and presumably travel via Deangate, as you could then, and then we’re approaching Monk Bar, and then we’re at the Hop Grove, where our beautiful curvy bus pulls up in an almost empty car park.

There’s a reference to not having to suffer ‘personal discomfort’, and stops at ‘convenient times and places’, and a shot of a man putting a coin into the palm of a lady. Which I think is indicating, in 1950s style, that they include stops for the toilets.

I’ll have to leave you there to continue the journey should you wish, via the Yorkshire Film Archive. The bus travels through Thornton le Dale and on to Scarborough: “Wallace Arnold takes you right in to Scarborough, to their own bus station”.

Maybe someone else can tell me what happens. I can’t go to Scarborough as I’ve got too many pages to shepherd into some kind of shape. Thankfully I don’t have put a load of oiled laundry in a twin tub washing machine.

. . . . .

Image used with permission from the Yorkshire Film Archive

Tag(s): film

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Memorable times, Terry’s and Rowntree’s

Lisa @YorkStories — Tue, 14 May 2013 21:16:01 +0000

Two fabulous films from the Yorkshire Film Archive website, following on from the page on the factory clocks of Rowntree’s and Terry’s. These films show the factory buildings and the workforce at both, the people those clocks once served. The workers at Rowntree’s who might be glancing up at their clocks at the gate, the workers at Terry’s who would have been able to see theirs from many streets away. Workers clocking in, and later running out perhaps, according to the Rowntree’s film below.

But first, here’s a (silent) film of the Terry’s factory. Well, actually it’s a film of a royal visit, in 1937, but I spent all my time looking past the royal party at the workers in their uniforms, and the massive building they streamed out of and stood by. The scale of the thing. Because it’s familiar we perhaps don’t appreciate, walking past it on the street or seeing photos, just how vast a place it was, how many people it employed in its heyday. This is clearly represented in several places in the film in particular, at 2 mins 50, for example, and at 3 mins 45, so many faces at the windows, and at 5 mins.

Followed by a rather less interesting sequence of presentations to the royal visitors. But then enlivened again as the royal party leave and the formal bit relaxes behind them and the women nearest the camera lose their line and momentarily huddle and talk in spontaneous excitement, a lovely moment at around 9:59, then the men in bowler hats look relaxed and normal and immediately smoke, while perhaps saying ‘That went rather well I thought’ to one another.

While they’re all relaxed it’s all kicking off at the Mansion House, with police holding back the enthusiastic flag-waving crowds, illustrated in the last couple of minutes. Marvellous stuff.

That this was filmed is nice. That it was preserved for so many decades is even better. That it’s available to view for free online is splendid. With added ‘Context’ and the opportunity to comment.

And on to Rowntree’s, the following decade, just after the war. Women workers running en masse from the factory entrance. Filmed from closer to the natural level, more personal and small-scale and rather more Rowntree-like, fittingly. They all look very fit, and they’re heading for their sports day, which is the main subject of this film. But again, I was looking behind them, to the buildings they knew and worked in, some of which remain, most of which are gone now.

The first minute or so scans across the factory buildings, from Haxby Road, with that impressive Wigginton Road building since lost, in the background (pictured here in this still from the film). Then women begin running from the factory gates. They seem very athletic these Rowntree’s workers. (Not like over at Terry’s, where they’re all smoking fags ;) )

From 1 mins 45 we’re at the sports day, losing the lovely voice and natural style of the original voiceover, and going into a more staged commentary style, amusing now. With poetic moments almost. Worth a watch/listen. It’s charming, and of its time.

‘And let the best man win. In this, he can’t, because it’s the girls’ hurdle race and they’re off -’

The inevitable rain – ‘Never mind – our clothes will dry and our skins are waterproof!’

Just fantastic.

. . . . .

Stills from the films used with permission.

Elsewhere on this site

All posts tagged ‘Terry’s’

All posts tagged ‘Rowntree’

Tag(s): film, factories, Terry’s, Rowntree, royal visits

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10 years ago: Not in our name

Lisa @YorkStories — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 22:32:07 +0000

Today is the spring equinox. Ideally I’d like to have posted a page with photos of daffodils on the bar walls, crocuses in the Museum Gardens, updates on various things happening in the here and now. But the weather is awful and I’m too busy to go wandering.

In any case, something else has been on my mind. Ten years ago today York’s streets were taken over by a large group of protesters, many of them young people, against the war on Iraq. A largely spontaneous protest, and unforgettable.

Filmed, along with other demonstrations that week, by Belle Vue Studio. The section on the 20 March demonstration begins at 3 mins 45:

York against the war: March 2003 from bellevuestudio on Vimeo.

I wrote about the events of that day, felt it needed recording. At the time I didn’t have this website about York, so didn’t have anywhere to share it. Thought I’d share it now, having found this writing from ten years ago.

On 20 March 2003 I woke to hear the war had started. In their 8am news bulletin Radio 5 Live played the sickening sounds of air raid sirens and bombing.

Everything seemed so vulnerable that day. So many lost their lives in that conflict, and it felt like we all could. On that day I stood on the city walls near West Offices and felt like I used to do in the 80s with the nuclear threat feeling so real and so close, realising that we were all the same, that it can happen here, or over there, how fragile we are. The cities in Iraq about to be bombed seemed like this place, as I stood on its now ineffectual defensive walls.

[written in 2003]

Thursday 20 March: large groups of school pupils walked out of schools and marched through the city’s streets – a scene I’ve never witnessed before.

I couldn’t shout with them, I felt too sad for shouting. Maybe older people like me feel more like crying than shouting. But I was glad they were shouting.

Young people’s apparent lack of interest in politics has been much discussed in the media in recent years – they appear not be rushing to the ballot box at their first chance to vote. No lack of engagement evident here though, as they marched through the streets, and spoke eloquently to reporters about why they believed the war was wrong.

All I can do is to present a few scenes from my city as the war began.

Arriving at a junction in the town centre where, before me, the road is full of marchers – some young, others obviously not bunking off school, but possibly having walked out of work. They’re marching along the road, towards the bridge, while the late-morning traffic is at a standstill. As they get onto the bridge there seems to be someone who’s decided to lie down in front of a bus. I’ve ended up on the opposite side of the road from the marchers, so instead study the faces of the people walking towards me on the pavement – the ‘non-protestors’. Some are looking with great interest, some look like they’re deliberately trying to ignore these examples of civil unrest – like ‘don’t look, it’ll only encourage them’. Some older people look amused, occasionally there’s an angry face. I hear an older woman say to her companion ‘They haven’t really thought about it, have they.’ (It was said as a statement, not a question.)

I walk onto the city walls and watch the march snake away up the road below me. It’s such a sunny day, such a beautiful town, and there are young people marching who are all fired up and rowdy and shouting, but to me seem vulnerable and I want to protect them all from any bombs that might fall on their heads. And feel the same about everyone else in the world.

At Cliffords Tower the daffodils are blooming on the grassy banks. Above them the white stone of the tower beneath blue sky. The sunshine is warm like summer. All over the grass are protesters – many sitting quietly still holding the placards stating ‘Not in our name’. Audible from just along the road are the chants of the younger protestors, who have moved en masse across the busy junction and are now occupying the centre of the roundabout. They might not now be able to stop the war, but they can stop the traffic.

The marching may have been planned, yet it still seems like groups of schoolchildren are appearing everywhere and setting off on separate marches.

The city’s main shopping street is full of people on their lunch breaks and browsing shoppers. One bystander starts to jump up and down on one of the placards.

I notice we’re marching incredibly fast. I wonder if protest marches have in general speeded up since I was young, in some kind of reflection of what is generally perceived as a shorter attention span. It’s more of a run than a march. I wonder if I’ve joined a local half-marathon by mistake. I then realise it’s probably because we’re going at the pace of fit 15-year-old people, not knackered 30-somethings . . .

As the march reaches the square near the Mansion House, we people of the more mature age group pause awhile, though I notice the younger people marching off again, back down the street we just covered already. I watch them disappear into the distance, into the midday sunshine.

A tourist asks me and Frank if we’re the teachers? I’ve never wanted to be a teacher before, but in that moment I would have been proud – my pupils marching off away from me, regardless, yelling political slogans. I’m not sure the parents of York would think it was great, but it amused me. I thought of my late sister, who was a teacher. I wish she was here.

. . .

Later, in the square, people gather at 6pm. We stand in silence for a few minutes, to think about those whose lives are threatened by this war. In the middle of our silence I hear angry sounds to my right, and see a young woman who is part of our group being subjected to a verbal barrage from an older woman who is so close to her she’s basically spitting in the younger woman’s face. She yells: “Shall I pull your fingernails out for you, shall I??!! That’s what Saddam Hussein would do to you!!” Then shouts some more, and stalks off again across the street. Oh my. It’s hard to see how someone can be so angry about a group of people standing silently in the street.

Tag(s): demonstrations, war

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University of York: 50 years

Lisa @YorkStories — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 21:07:08 +0000

The University of York, in the summer of 1978 – 18 June. Students show off their ‘Saturday Night Fever’ style dance moves in the ‘Summer Spectacular’, their raised arms mirroring the lines of the Central Hall behind them.

The university is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year. This fantastic film follows the building of the university campus. It begins with an introduction to the city of York then follows the building work at Heslington. Makes you appreciate this great achievement, and conveys the excitement of the building project and the opening of this new university for York.

Notable moments:
2.50 Cars driving down Stonegate. It didn’t become a footstreet until the following decade
3.05 Interior of St John’s church, Micklegate, occupied by the Institute of Architectural Studies. More familiar to many of us as the Arts Centre, in later years.
3.08 Kings Manor, many interior shots
14.45 Lord James of Rusholme, pipe in hand, talks about the university

Patrick Nuttgens describes its creation in York: the Continuing City:

‘Hundreds of trees were planted; the land was recontoured and drained so as to form a huge lake, twisting through the middle of the site and providing visual unity for the various university buildings. Within an astonishingly short period the University of York was able to present an apparently mature landscape with buildings and shrubs and grass, animals and birds and fish – as well as staff and students.’

Another photo from the 1978 Summer Spectacular, featuring more dancing, and a man in dungarees. Younger readers perhaps won’t have seen dungarees before, but they were quite the thing around this time. No, no one knows why.

Thanks to Andy Tuckwell for these photos. More of Andy’s photos of the event are viewable in this online album.

I hope to get over to the university when the weather warms and brightens, to get some long-overdue photos of both the 1960s buildings and more recent additions.

For now, you may be interested in the excellent website they’ve put together to celebrate their first 50 years. And if the film or the photos have prompted memories, the university would like to hear from you. See this page for more details.

Tag(s): film, universities

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