The Steamers

At the time we were contemplating our move to North Albert Street there were strong rumours that the Isle of Man Steamer service was to be discontinued at the end of the season in 1961.
Apparently the berthing quays were in dire need of repair and the British Transport Commision, who were in charge of the docks and the quays, thought the Manx people ought to foot the bill of £75,000, but as the Manx people had, not too long ago, paid for a large expensive shelter outside and alongside the railway station they felt they had done their share and objected to being asked to pay for repairs to Fleetwood quayside.

After all, they paid their berthing fees didn’t they? And they felt the repairs ought to come out of those, so they said no, they would discontinue the service first.

Curiously, at the time no one in the town seemed to think that losing the service would be any great loss to Fleetwood; after all, said the Fleetwood traders, surely the Manx people needed the service more than we do, and probably the Manx traders felt the same way, that we would miss them more than they would miss us.

We tried to raise a petition, but in vain. “Sure”, said all the Fleetwood traders, “you people on the prom will miss them, but we in the town do not get any benefit so why should we bother?”
When the Mona’s Queen sailed out of Fleetwood at the end of the season in 1961 we sadly watched her steam down the channel with her hooters mournfully sounding.

She carried the message in flags “Deeply regret. Fleetwood Goodbye”.

And when, the following summer, the numbers of visitors who came to Fleetwood just to see the boats dropped alarmingly the whole town began to feel the loss, for after the boat had sailed these visitors stayed in town and spent money not just on the prom, but right through the town.

And in the Isle of Man it was even more disastrous as the bulk of their visitors had arrived by steamers from Fleetwood.

The Manx people had thought the air service would compensate for the loss, but the high cost of air fares and the difficulty of getting to and from the airports discouraged too many people and soon the Manx traders were calling for a resumption of the service.

But the Steam Packet Company, the Manx Government and the Fleetwood Docks Board were all adamant and for ten long years the steamers were not to return to Fleetwood.

It cannot be denied that the Steam Packet Company had been suffering a bad time in recent years, with diminishing numbers of passengers due to rising fares, poor summers and the increasing attractions of holidays abroad, and even today those problems still apply to the sailings.

But hope blossomed in 1968 when entrepreneur Sir John Osborne (whatever happened to him?) announced that he was bringing a hovercraft to Fleetwood.
We all gathered on the promenade in great excitement to see it arrive; For many of us it was our first glimpse of such a vessel, but it was not very impressive, looking more like an over-sized inflated dinghy, and more than one hopeful Fleetwood youngster had a fork hidden in his back pocket in the hope he might get a chance to stick it in the hovercraft and see it zizz away over the distant horizon!

As it transpired it was a very temperamental craft indeed and seldom completed a trip time and again having to turn back half way for some trouble or another.

The hovercraft did not like bad weather and in the main the passengers did not like the hovercraft and by the end of the year it quietly disappeared to be replaced the following year by a Scandinavian ship called the Stella Marina.

She looked very nice but was only marginally better than the hovercraft and was equally unreliable so that, too, only lasted a year and the next one to arrive with a Scotish mailboat with the impressive title of Norwest Laird.

It was the only impressive thing about it.

If the other two had been somewhat unreliable this one was totally unreliable.I think the Isle of Man put the flags out on the rare occasions it limped into port.

I never sailed on it, but I know a man who did and he’s never been the same since.

After that the ever hopeful Sir John went off somewhere else to seek his fortune, probably glad to shake the dust of Fleetwood from his shoes.

The poor ill-fated Norwest Laird went from Fleetwood to Glasson Dock where she languished for some time with a bailiff’s ticket nailed to her mast, but eventually she was bought and is now in Bristol serving as a nightclub, so if you are ever in Bristol say Hello to her from Fleetwood.
Apart from missing the pleasure of seeing the Manx boats each day and, of course, the business they brought, we also missed the captains and the crew as we had made many friends among them.

One of the captains us to call in quite often and tell us all his troubles, and one day he said mournfully that his wife had sinus trouble.

Oh dear, said I, sympathetically, Is it painful? It is for me, he replied grimly, Every morning its sign us a cheque for this or sign us a cheque for that!
And who can forget those famous and well-loved Manx boats which served so well over the years? Boats like Benmy-Chree, the Monas Isle, the Lady of Mann, the Monas Queen and most of all the famous Viking, who retired after nearly half a century of sailing from Fleetwood to the Isle of Man, with only a brief pause during the two world wars to serve first as a seaplane carrier and then a troopship.

The Viking held the record for the fastest crossing which has never been broken and many tears were shed for her when she went to the scrap-yard in 1954.
Our hopes were raised in 1971 when the North End berth was repaired and the Manx Steamers returned on a temporary trail basis – which presumably meant the Steamer Company would see if the service could be run profitably.

But the long period without sailings had broken the pattern which has never really been repaired and, coupled with the lost rail link, the record numbers of passengers who used to sail on the boats in the 30s and 40s will probably never been seen again. The service stopped and started and was in continual jeopardy until 1986 when the present Funboat service was inaugurated by Fleetwood’s most famous mariner, Captain Robert Arnott, until recently Captain of the worlds most famous cruise liner, the Q.E.2. Derek Jameson covered the event for the radio, Wyre Borough was represented by the mayor, Miss Lillian Anderson with many councillors and officials, and there was a whole host of zany characters and show-biz.

People with specially arranged events making it a right royal send off! Let us hope the global warming effect gives us a few good summers for that is what will keep the service going.
My favourite memory of the old Manx steamer is of one morning when the promenade was crowded with visitors watching the boat depart.

It had sailed down the channel with its sirens sounding their usual loud reverberating raspberry when we heard the sound of a man running like billy-o down the promenade towards a small group of people chatting outside our shop.

As he approached the group the man shouted at the top of his voice, “Did you hear our Doris? No prizes for guessing what our Doris was famous for!
Overshadowed by the loss of the Manx boats was another close down which for many residents was equally said; the closing down of the Art Cinema in 1961, It was the beginning of the end of the celluloid age, for over the next few years most of the Fylde cinemas were to close to make way for Bingo parlours or super-markets or some such, and not long after the Art Cinema was the demolition of the building itself. It had been a tall handsome building in classic style and the two story faceless building which replaced it did nothing for the character of Lord Street. Probably for financial reasons what was done was necessary, but does everything have to be reduced to financial levels, can nothing be left because it is attractive.
In the Art was an excellent café which specialised in afternoon teas and was ideal for a snack before going to the afternoon matinee or evening show. A night at the pictures was always special, with a box of chocolates or a bag of sweets (and who dared rustle a sweet paper when the hero was whispering of hie ever-lasting love in the heroine’s ear?) with soft lighting, the organ playing and the curtain rising to herald a two hour escape into a fantasy world.

Everyone had there favourite heroes who were daring and handsome and heroes who were beautiful and always virtuous, and we all creid, laughed or cheered as they experienced impossible and incredible adventures far removed from our own mundane existences, but who cared?

It was magic of a sort you don’t seem to get on the little box in the corner.

Mind you there was often the annoying patron or neighbour, the couple who wouldn’t stop talking, the people who came in late and insisted on treading all over your feet or the person with the tall hat or big hair do.

We were once totally engrossed in a gripping thriller when I became aware of someone grovelling about on the floor by my feet.

Looking down I saw a man searching for something and I asked him what he was looking for, I’ve dropped the caramel I was chewing and I’m trying to find it, he told me.

But, even if you find it, you can’t eat it when its been on the floor. He popped his head up for a minute, oh, I don’t want to eat it, he explained, continuing his search, But I must find it, my teeth are still in it!