Fleetwood North

We had been thinking for some time about opening a shop in the town and started looking for suitable premises.

Sixteen years previously there had been plenty of empty shops to choose from but now there were very few.
It had once been the famous Cleggs fish and chip shop. Looking through an old almanac recently dated 1925 I found an advertisement for the very same shop, then known as the Central Restaurant, run by a Mr J.R. Law and in addition to fish and chips, Mr Law claimed to be noted for his high quality tripe, heels and trotters.
But when we were searching in the early sixties it had recently been opened by Miss Joan Hudson and her brothers for wools and materials. We found the Hudsons friendly and helpful, and Miss Hudson particularly was a very charming person with a great sense of humour. Although very energetic she said she wanted to retire and so a few weeks later we moved in and opened our second camera shop.
We viewed our new neighbours with interest.

At the Adelaide Street corner of the block was Andertons the butchers. Under all the shops of our block there were basements and we turned ours into useful workrooms but these were completely unusable on Mondays, for that was the day the butcher rendered down all the spare fat into dripping or soap and the smell permeated everywhere.

We have never used so much air freshener before or since. Between the butchers and us was Phil Baker who was related to Albert Baker our landlord on the Promenade.

(Everyone in Fleetwood is related to someone or other, have you noticed?) Phil was very friendly and helpful and we soon became good friends.

He was a whiz with televisions and radios and he sold, hired, and rented them out. An accomplished musician he has in recent years turned his attention to selling and playing organs and it is a pleasure to listen to him.
At the Victoria Street corner was Joe Howorths photographic business, and our mutual photographic interest led to our friendship with Joe.

The shop under his premises was the Stone-dri shop at the side of which could be seen large double door over which was (and is) the building date, 1863. I later discovered this door had led to a theatre which had been known as the old gaff, but looking round Joe’s workrooms it seemed to me that it must have been a very small theatre.

Joe’s grandfather, H.E. Howorth, and his son, Joe’s father had come to Fleetwood in the middle of the last century and set up in business in Dock Street near to James Lofthouses chemist shop.

(Incidentally, I was interested to see in the 1925 almanac that Fleetwood had once had an association called the “Fishermans Friends Lodge of the United Imperial Order of Mechanics” and they met each month in the Dock Street library. Curious, eh)
When the trams came to Fleetwood both Mr. Howorth and Mr. Lofthouse transferred their businesses to Lord Street.

Mr Howorth went to the premises which another photographer, Mr Nickson were good photographers and between them they took most of the old photographs of Fleetwood we treasure today. Mr Howorth called the studio, a name which applied until recent years.
About the time we came to Fleetwood Joe had transferred his interests to commercial photography and had moved into new premises at the corner of Victoria Street and North Albert Street, which was where we met him.
Although Joe’s business closed down after his death, his name still lives on in the town in the travel business he started. When cheap packaged holidays abroad began to be popular in the sixties joe decided this was the business to be in and opened the shop at Ash Street which is still there. Many of our customers used to come in and tell us of their exotic holidays abroad. One couple had done a tour of Europe in seven days and trying to describe it to us the husband said, “On Monday we did France and on Tuesday we did Germany, on Wednesday – er – where did we go on Wednesday Mabel?” Mabel frowned for a minute and then said, “Oh, Wednesday we did Switzerland”.

Talk about seeing the world in 80 days, they would have done it in 10. How on earth can you do a country in a day?

Another couple said they had just been on a world cruise and were wondering where to go next – a trip into outer space, perhaps?
Next to us on the other side was Booths cake shop. When the closed they were replaced by Ladbrokes, the betting shop.

I once asked the manager if his customers made much money out of betting on horses. He just grinned at me and pointed out that most of his customers travelled on bicycles while he used a Mercedes – and you can draw your own conclusions from that. Then there was the Hoi Kin restaurant, probably the first Chinese restaurant in Fleetwood. It was run by a Chinese family who spoke little or no English but with smiles and gestures they managed to make themselves understood.

They did a good business but had a lot of trouble with customers not paying their bills, and it was a regular sight to see a fat Chinese chef angrily chasing a customer down the street with blood curdling yells and waving a fearsome looking cleaver.

As far as I knew he never caught anyone, which was perhaps as well, or the next days menu might have had a new number on it. “

How would you like your next customer sir? Rare or medium?

Between Stone-dri and Hoi Kin was Horsleys furniture store and when it was proposed to put a tram stop outside our shop, Woolworths took Horsleys premises, probably thinking it would be very busy there as a result but the tram stop was eventually located instead outside Healds shop in the next block, so Woolworths only stayed a couple of years and then went into new premises on Lord Street.

Across the road during the next ten years we saw a variety of shops come and go.

Foulds had the corner once occupied by Rileys the hard ware shop, later it was used by the police as a temporary station while the Victoria Street premises were being decorated.

Then the Trustee Savings Bank opened their first branch there and one Christmas a toy shop was opened under the name of S&G. Wholesale Suppliers.

That was a misnomer, of course, they were supplying direct to the public but the name implied that the prices were lower than retail prices would normally be.

As the prices ought to have been lower. At the time we had a young teenage shop assistant who, while being a pleasant and helpful lad to the customers, was also charmingly naïve.

While putting up our Christmas display in the window he stared across the road at the new shop heading and asked what S & G stood for.

Remembering the quality of their goods I frevously said it probably meant Soddom and Gomorrah, a suggestion which the lad took seriously.

During the Christmas rush a woman came in and bought two Mickey Mouse 8mm films from us, but during New Year week she returned them and demanded her money back declaring they were faulty.

Our lad examined them carefully and told her their was nothing wrong with them and suggested it might be the projector.

Accordingly the woman produced the projector and sur enough it was a cheap tin thing on which it was impossible to show films.

Asking her where she bought it she indicated the shop across the street and the lad said, somewhat disparagingly – for we had heard many other complaints about their goods – “Oh, Soddom and Gomorrah!

Well you should take it back to them and ask them for your money back.”

Grabbing the machine, the woman marched across the road and into the shop where, behind the counter, stood a fat man with a large cigar.

Slamming the offending projector on to the counter the angry customer demanded loudly,
“Well, which are you? Soddom or Gomorrah?”
Next to S & G.s was the Electricity Board showroom above which the Conservative Ladies had their headquarters.

For many years the Photographic Society met here each Wednesday and this was very convenient for me, working just across the road.

Further on was a stationery and printing business run by two of the gentlest and sweetest old ladies who ever ran a business.

They did our printing for us and every time we took any work in we were invited into their office to have tea from a delicate china tea service with home made cake, and slowly and leisurely discuss our order.

That was the gracious way to do business. It was a sight better than a fax machine, I can tell you.
The two oldest shops on that block were, I think, Epranes and Pearson Garnetts the grocers, and sadly, it is only in recent years they have both closed.

Healds and Garnetts were two of Fleetwoods best grocers and while Healds were able to change fairly smoothly to a super-market.

I don’t think Mr. Garnett felt so inclined and decided to retire instead.

Known widely as Bosun due to his long term involvement with the local scouting movement, he was a highly respected grocer and his shop was everything a good grocers should be.
All along his counter fronts were glass-lidded tins of biscuits from which you could make your choice of fancy biscuits.

They were large numbered tins of tea and coffee along the back shelves and the smell of newly ground coffee was tantalising.

Somehow, super-markets have never really taken the place of a good quality grocers shop.
Epranes sold medium priced ladies coats and dresses and when they closed the premises were taken by Tippings, another old Fleetwood firm who had previously been lower down North Albert Street.

Rather more upmarket they, too, supply a ready need in the town.
I had a little bit of fun at Epranes expense one day.

When they were doing there window display they would leave their models in the window overnight without any clothes on.

Fleetwood council, at the time, had given permission to some naturist society to have a nude bathing beach at the West End.

(As far as I know that still applies – it is the only part of Fleetwood beach on which nude bathing is allowed, weather and crowds permitting.

While they were closed one evening I stuck a notice on Epranes window showing the nude models saying “Bargain fashions for nude bathers” and photographed it.

When I showed the picture nobody but me thought it funny, which served me right for my cheek. (I removed the notice of course, when I had taken the picture.)
Between Latus’s toy shop and the printers was Wolfenden the chemist, and when I put my back out lifting a heavy parcel I asked his opinion about the doctors in the area, for who better to know the doctors than a chemist.

We had not needed a doctor previously so decided now was the time to enrol with one. He looked at me sympathetically and shook his head (not a very reassuring, when you feel ill, is it) and stared for a few minutes into space while he considered.

Well, he said eventually, ticking off his fingers. I wouldn’t go to and so on, he’s too old fashioned and still believes in brimstone and treacle.

He thinks castor oil cures everything and at the moment that’s the last thing you need. (Boy was he right) But so-and-so is too young, he tries all the new medicines out and is surprised at some of the results – so are his patients.

Now so-and-so is no good, he’s afraid of losing a patient, so does nothing, while so-and-so doesn’t give too hoots who he loses so, for different reasons, he does nothing either.

But so-and-so handwriting is so bad none of us chemists can read it, so we give the patient what we think will do him good and it usually does, so why go to that doctor, stick with the chemist instead. He shook his head again, I don’t know who I’d recommend, he said eventually, Perhaps Dr Devlin is about the best, but he can be odd at times.

When I went to see Dr Devlin I soon found out what Mr Wolfenden meant by describing him as add. He looked at me all doubled up and said unfeelingly, “A bad back?

You think you have a bad back? Here you want to see min, now that’s a bad back.” He stood up and pointed to his back and invited me to feel it.

When I did it felt like a steal fence.

“See? He said, “That’s a steel corset. I’ve worn it for years. Take two aspirins and go to bed for two days and your back will be cured, but mine won’t! (He was right, it was !)
One of our customers who went to him every week went to him and complained that she was afraid she was losing her memory, she could not remember names of people.

Oh, I wouldn’t worry.

Said Dr Devlin as he pulled his pad towards him ready to write a prescription.

Now let me see, what did you say your name was? That was his oddity, he always had whatever you had, but worse and that sure made you feel much better!

When Dr Devlin left Fleetwood to join his daughters in Italy, all his patients regretted his going, he was a great doctor.
We still had the promenade shop and between the two shops we never had a holiday and rarely even a day off, so my personal photography was done on rare moments like midday and luch times, which meant taking photographs at home or near at hand around the twon.

I became interested in close ups and, for a time, took a picture of insects and flowers.

One lunch time I was in the parish church grounds photographing at about two inches a snail crawling towards a daisy.

I had my back to the road with my face near the ground and my rear end up in the air.

I must of looked a strange sight, crawling along the ground on all fours. One passer by stopped to watch for a few minutes.

(he couldn’t see the camera), and asked, “What are you doing, love? Without thinking or looking round, I said, I’m photographing a snail kissing a daisy.”

There was a moment’s pause before the passer by said, “oh, I see, ask a damn silly question and you get a damn silly answer!’