There are
many sorry stories as the Covid 19 pandemic roars on. Perhaps the news that
hurts most in Lincoln – aside from the illness and deaths -- is the closure of
our city’s main stage, the Drill Hall.
The City of
Lincoln Council, inhibited by inevitable Government cuts, has reluctantly withdrawn
£187,000 in annual grant funding. (The Council has slowly been reducing funding
for the Drill Hall since 2013)
When added
to months of cancelled events and lost income because of lockdown, that
decision was enough to close the hall. When the Government’s furlough scheme
ends at the end of October, and this bleak winter begins, the Drill Hall’s 19-strong
staff will be made redundant.
No panto
this year then, and no calling for a coffee. No comedy nights, and no folk
musicians in the café bar. My tickets to see the legendary guitarist Albert Lee
have been refunded.
The Drill
Hall is controlled by the Lincoln Arts Trust who say they are striving to
secure the future of other grants and talking to other interested organisations
to protect the future of the site which is held under a charitable trust.
It is hoped
to “redesign and repurpose” the venue – perhaps with a wider remit than just
the arts. It appears on a wish list of 14 projects being drawn up in Lincoln in
a bid to get £25m funding from the Government’s Town Deal.
To look back
at the history of the Drill Hall is to realise that it is an essential part of
the Lincoln story and it must not be mothballed! It contains important
memorabilia of the Lincolnshire Regiment and it’s been everything from a
typhoid ward to a rock ‘n’ roll venue!
It was built
and gifted in 1890 by Joseph Ruston, the great engineering entrepreneur, as a
centre for the Lincoln Volunteers to do their drill.
Local
workers knew it as the “bread and cheese hall” as a result of a dispute with
their employer Ruston.
The workers
were on the trade union minimum but wanted a rise which Ruston refused. When
some of them upbraided him, he replied: “I hope you’ll let me get bread and
cheese out of my business.”
Ruston, thenceforth
nicknamed ‘bread and cheese’, confided soon after to a young Congregationalist
minister, who had delivered a sermon on social inequality, that it was his fear
for other local engineering firms that made him refuse the wage claim.
While Ruston
and Proctor were prospering, others were in great difficulty. Ruston feared
they would close when faced with similar demands from their own workers and
that much unemployment would result. (Story from the book “100 years of Good
Company” published on the Centenary of Rustons in 1957)
In 1905, a
typhoid epidemic, caused by the inadequate water supply, raged through the city.
The hospitals were soon full, and emergency accommodation was required. The
Drill Hall, the largest available, was immediately turned into a hospital ward
with patients being delivered by horse-drawn ambulance to its Broadgate door.
For the
typhoid story see our documentary at https://vimeo.com/ondemand/acitywithtyphoid
Or get Bygone
Lincoln DVD 2 at http://blowbyblow.co.uk/website/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=53
On the day
that the First World War was declared, the Lincoln territorials returned from training
camp to muster at the Drill Hall and were told there to go home and prepare for
embarkation. Within a few weeks they were fighting in France.
In World War
Two, Lincolnshire was again a centre of military activity, and dances were held
in the Drill Hall for RAF and US Air Force personnel.
In 1962, as
a teenager, I made my debut - to see the rock ‘n’ roller Gene Vincent. To give
an idea of my far from exquisite taste in that period, I also went to see
Screaming Lord Sutch!
On New Year’s
Eve 1963, a breaking band called The Rolling Stones were the entertainment. An
excellent local beat group, The Sultans, were invited to support the guys from
London.
The Sultans declined.
They were already booked at a local village hall and the mother of one of them
pointed out what bad form it would be to renege on such a booking! Next day The
Stones went off to appear in the very first Top of the Pops.
As the 60s
and 70s unfolded, wrestling at the Drill Hall was popular. Big Daddy, alias
Shirley Crabtree, was a big softy under that vast exterior. He was addicted to
Coronation Street and couldn’t miss an episode. The caretaker and his wife, who
lived in a flat just off the main hall, would invite in the big man in to get
his TV fix, only about 20 yards from the ring.
This same
couple would allow me, a young journalist, to use their phone to ring in local election
results from the Drill Hall count. No mobiles then.
One night in
the early 1970s, Labour took control of the City of Lincoln Council after a tie
between Labour and Conservative candidates in the one remaining ward to be
counted. The issue was settled under electoral law by one “spoiled” paper. The
voter had drawn a cross over the whole ballot paper as if to say “a plague on
both your houses”. But because the apex of the cross was one-sixteenth of an
inch on the Labour candidate’s side of the paper, the Returning Officer ruled
that he should get the vote – and, as it turned out, the seat, and the council!
I’m not kidding!
Come the
1990s and the Drill Hall electrics were old-fashioned and unsafe. There was a
long close down but the famous Hall was back completely refurbished in 2004.
Since then
everyone from political personalities like Tony Benn, Shirley Williams and the
historian David Starkey have appeared (note how carefully I have selected left,
centre and right) and all manner of famous names.
In comedy,
John Bishop, Lee Mack and Sarah Millican. In jazz, Jacqui Dankworth and Jamie
Cullum. In folk, Fairport Convention and Martin and Eliza Carthy. And countless
other professionals of course. There have been scores of amateur performances.
Blues and real ale festivals - these are only from my own memory. And lots of
smaller gigs in the café and adjoining rooms.
One night in
2018 it was the only provincial venue to host a night in the BBC Proms which
went out live on Radio Three.
A few weeks
later, as the Centenary of the Armistice neared, I actually stepped on to the
fabled stage myself as part of a night to recall Lincoln in World War I
I am quite
used to addressing small groups but it was something else to be far above the
audience and far away - and to see so little of them because of the stage
lighting. There are professionals, struggling now for opportunities and income,
who would take this in their stride and give anything to walk the Drill Hall boards
once more.
Let us hope
and pray that the long story of the bread and cheese hall is not over yet.
Andrew Blow - October 15th 2020
Drill Hall picture by kind permission of Phil Hamlyn Williams
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