Wednesday, 20 October 2010

St. Benedict's and All Souls


 St Benedict's church in Ardwick
The thing about Manchester is, for all the patches of increasingly non-distinct new builds around the city centre and along the Oxford Road corridor, all you have to do is stumble a few yards behind Piccadilly station in the right direction and you're right in the middle of a tragic and horribly beautiful urban decline: grand, crumbling mills, streets almost empty of pedestrians, offensive post-war terraces, grim off-licences and boarded-up pubs. Yes, this is a post-industrial urban space as it should be: farewell blandness, hello poetry. And, most excitingly of all if you're me, you might come across a couple of redbrick churches (one derelict, one recently-derelict) that offer strong evidence that around here, somewhere, there used to be a thriving community.

 All Soul's Church on Every Street, in Ancoats (built 1840) offers any ecclesiastical architecture enthusiast a thrill, even though you can only see it from the outside: immediately one can see that it's shape seems modelled on Milan Cathedral, although it is radically plainer and the decorative elements are distinctly romanesque: essentially then a shrunken Norman duomo stripped down to its bare essentials (ie: no spikes), and, of course, rendered in industrial red rather than that classical white. One suspects it could still do a good bit of damage to Silvio Berlusconi if you threw it at him, though.                                                               

 All Souls in Ancoats

Sadly, All Soul's has been closed since 1984, and after having served some sort of industrial purpose since then (contradictory accounts suggest either 'joinery workshop' or 'timber merchants', though I suppose that a timber concern based in the choir could be selling all their wood to the joiners in the nave) is apparently shortly to re-open as something called the 'Manchester Miracle Centre', although when I visited I could find little evidence of refurbishment going on and indeed came across a sign from a demolition company nearby, which had me worriedly attempting to navigate the planning applications section of the council's website (which, by the way, could be a lot better designed).

 Amble along the long stretches of dual carriageway to Ardwick and one might eventually turn the right corner to find the High Anglican dream that is St Benedict's on Bennett Street (named for wealthy church benefactor John Marsland Bennett), built 1880 and ceasing to function as a church in 2002. A tall and classy redbrick tower, one of the largest rose windows I've ever seen on a parish church in these isles, an attached school house and presbytery, and... a modest but nevertheless conspicuous sign for something called the 'Manchester Climbing Centre'.

 Circle the church, inspecting the doors and windows, and you'd be forgiven for thinking that whoever this Climbing Centre are, they're using it as a warehouse. Plastic and metal screens bolted behind the stained glass and some sort of concrete actually gluing the big west doors shut does not exactly scream: “come on in.” But stroll through the car park and you'll find a door that actually looks like it might open, although you still need to press a button to get buzzed in by the receptionist.

 And, inside, they've done something to the place that no rational human being could ever have expected. Go on, guess what they've done to it. If you had 'several large climbing walls in the nave', you win the box of Rose's chocolates. Yes, the Manchester Climbing Centre, it turns out, is a real climbing centre (not that, as a man who only really leaves the house to go to university or see some fantastic churches, I had really acquired the concept of a climbing centre before I visited St Benedict's), complete with rubber (or, not really rubber, some sort of synthetic floor material like rebound ace or something) floor and balcony cafĂ©.

 But, both mercifully and surreally, the owners have maintained the original Victorian stained glass (including some very beautiful examples), plaques celebrating particular members of the congregation, and breathtaking wooden ceiling (I do like a parish church with a nice wooden ceiling), so that you can wander through admiring all this, while you're standing on a rubber floor surrounded by healthy-living types developing their climbing skills on the plastic, multi-coloured climbing walls that stretch up to the aforementioned breathtaking wooden ceiling.

 So, to conclude: even if the Manchester Miracle Centre might not make the church-lover believe in miracles, the Manchester Climbing Centre certainly will.

Sunday, 10 October 2010

Commemorative Plaques



With over 100 dotted about the city, commemorative plaques are quick and noticeable reminders of Manchester’s past. We can trace their origins to the initiative of Alderman Clement Stott, who in 1960 came up with the idea. But it was not until 1970, and by the enthusiasm of keen local historian, Alderman Sir Richard Harper, that the council commenced the programme on a permanent rather than merely experimental basis. 

Initially, the plaques marked buildings where famous people had once lived, but constant redevelopment meant that many houses were being demolished – or had been for some time already.  So many plaques now mark sites of historical importance e.g. Peterloo. Due to tightening of the local government budget, the rigourous research for plaques and their installation is entirely funded by those who request it. 

Up until 1984, plaques were made of blue ceramic caustic ware. When the manufacturer ceased production that year, aluminium was chosen as its replacement. In 1985, colour coding was introduced for the first time:

-          Blue = famous people
-          Red = important event
-          Black = buildings of special architectural importance
-          Green = miscellaneous

This is my pick of a few. I’ve included names and years of installation. You have to find out what they commemorate, and their colour. Bring your answers to the Historical Pub Crawl on Friday 22nd October (meet outside Steve Biko building at 7pm). The person with the most correct answers i.e. the winner, will win a copy of Engel’s Die Lage der arbeitenden Klasse in England  - The Condition of the Working Class in England in 1844.

1.       James Sadler on Corporation Street and Balloon Street 1972

2.       Geity Theatre on Peter Street 1972

3.        Portico Library on Mosley Street 1973

4.       Revd. John Wesley on Central Hall, Oldham Street 1974

5.       Site of Alport Lodge on Deansgate and St. John’s Street 1976

6.       Friedrich Engels on Aberdeen House (Student Halls) 1976

7.       Ford Maddox Brown and Charles Halle on Daisy Bank Road 1981

8.      Town Hall on Albert Square 1986

9.      Elizabeth Raffald on Marks & Spencer on Shambles Street 1986

10.  Shudehill Fight on Arndale Centre 1986

11.  Carribean Focus on West Indian Centre 1987

12.  Dr. Chaim Weizmann on Jewish Museum , Cheetham Hill Road 1987

13.  Thomas De La Warre on Cathedral Street 1989

14.  Cooperative Insurance on Princess Street 1992

15.  Robert Owen on Royal Exchange, St. Anne’s Square 1994

16.  Football League on Market Street 1996

WITH THANKS TO MANCHESTER CITY COUNCIL PLANNING DEPARTMENT