In praise of the public bar

I first started going in pubs when I was aged 16 going on 17. I can't remember the first pub that I had a drink in, but it was almost certainly one in Ashford, the town where I went to school and grew up in, but it would have been a place where underage drinkers could be served alcohol, without too many questions being asked. My friends and I we're under 18, and whilst physically a number of us looked old enough to drink, I imagine our behaviour would have given the opposite impression.

The pub was probably the long-demolished Park Hotel, a traditional, multi bar establishment, that had seen better days. The pub was under threat of closure and demolition, to make way for Ashford’s new shopping centre, which explains the lack of investment.  Shortly afterwards my friends and I gravitated to the Invicta, a three-storey, corner pub in the Godington Road area of the town.

It was named after Invicta, the White Horse of Kent, and was the pub where our friend Roy drank. His parents were regulars there, which was probably why we were allowed to drink there. John, the landlord, and his wife Mary knew we weren’t old enough to imbibe, but as long as we behaved, the couple were content with our presence. The Invicta was owned by Courage who, along with Whitbread, operated the majority of Ashford's pubs

We occasionally frequented the Bybrook Tavern, another Courage house in the nearby suburb of Kennington. Despite its ancient appearance, the Bybrook Tavern was a relatively recent addition to the town's stock of pubs, having been converted from a couple of old cottages back in the 1960’s. Today, it is part of the adjoining, and recently opened, Holiday Inn, but still retains the name of the former pub for the bar area. 

I remember Roy issuing a reminder, in advance of a group of us meeting up at the Bybrook, that “Shirts will be worn!” This was a reference to a sign put up by the pub landlord, a former military man, as were many licenses in the decades following WWII. The major, quite rightly wasn't enamoured with the presence in his pub of builders, tradesmen and other labourers, stripped to the waist, during hot weather. These were the sort of people my father described as “sweaty oafs,” so even within the confines of the public bar, or pub garden, I wholeheartedly agree with the landlord’s sentiments.  

The era I'm talking about was the early 1970s, a time when both the country as a whole, and places like Ashford were undergoing major change. The pubs hadn't changed much, apart from perhaps the switchover to keg or top pressure beers, so the interior of many of them was much as it would have been in the two or three decades that followed the Second World War. Almost without exception, every pub had more than one bar, usually a Public and Saloon bar. A handful offered additional drinking areas, called either Private or Snug Bar, and my favourite example of this was a smashing late Victorian pub, close to Ashford town centre, called the Lord Roberts.

The Lord Roberts boasted a small and cosy Private Bar, sandwiched between Public Bar at the front of the pub and the Saloon at the rear. The only access was externally, from the alleyway, at the side of the building. From the time I could drink legally in pubs, the Lord Roberts became one of my favourite watering holes in the town, and if you were lucky enough have a girlfriend, it was a place to take her for a quiet and respectable drink. Unfortunately, the Lord Roberts fell victim to Ashford Borough Council’s wrecking ball, as it was demolished to make way for service road, for a hideous Y-shaped monolithic office block, constructed in the heart of the town.

The reasons why so many pubs had different bars during that period, reflects the way in which the public house evolved over the centuries. Writer and columnist, Richard Boston devotes several pages to the subject, in his excellent book Beer and Skittles, and he covers in some depth, the differences between the various bars, and the way in which they developed.   

My own memories from that time, are that public bars were often rather basic, with a tiled or lino floor covering, or even just plain wooden boards. There wasn't much in the way of wall coverings either, although sometimes there was painted matchboard at the base, below a wooden dado rail. The upper half of the walls, was normally bare plaster, painted in colours ranging from cream and pale yellow, through to various shades of dark brown. 

Boston describes this effect as a “Symphony in Brown” but, as others pointed out, these are the colours of beer ranging from pale ales, through to bitters and stouts. The darker colours were often reserved for the matchboard section of the lower half. Public bars tended to be male dominated or had a preponderance of men - the classic, “lads of the village” type of thing, and were also home to traditional pub games, such as darts, bar-billiards, dominoes, or cards - the latter being strictly non-gambling games, of course. 

Perversely, despite their male dominance, public bars were often looked after by a female member of staff, most of whom suffered no nonsense from any of the customers, regardless of their sex. 

One example I recall well, was the Dog & Bear at Lenham, a large village between Ashford and Maidstone. The Dog & Bear was formerly a coaching inn, and like most pubs at the time, had two bars. The Public bar was called "Joyce's Bar", whilst the Saloon was called "Squirrel’s Bar" after the nickname of the characterful landlord, with his trademark handlebar moustache and mutton-chop whiskers. So Squirrel looked after Saloon, with its preponderance of female drinkers, whilst his wife Joyce kept stock of the male dominated Public Bar.

Saloon bars were nearly always carpeted and were decorated with much more ornate wall-coverings, including that ghastly gold and burgundy, "flock wallpaper" that became all the rage as the 1970’s drew on. The seating too was more comfortable, compared to the rather basic wooden bench seating and chairs, traditionally found in the public bar. In the saloon the chairs and benches would be covered and padded, providing seating that was far more comfortable, and also appealing to women. If you wanted a lunchtime or evening meal, this would normally be served in the saloon bar, unless of course the pub had its own separate restaurant.

When I went up to Manchester to study at Salford University, I had to get used to a whole new vocabulary when it came to pubs. Public bars were invariably known as the Vault, whereas saloon bars were more likely described as the Lounge Bar. Some northern pubs had a Smoking Room, and I recall one establishment that even had a Reading Room. If anything, the Vaults in some of these straight-talking northern towns, were even more male dominated then their southern counterparts.

The same situation applied in the small number of pubs the operated an exclusively male vault. Women were barred from the vault, in these places, and I remember as a student, taking part in a demonstration against such obvious examples of sexual discrimination. Several months later legislation was brought in outlawing, such practises. This, of course, was a result of pressure being applied in parliament, rather than a scruffy bunch of students conducting an impromptu protest!

Despite the claims of some historians, separate bars for different sectors of society was not an anachronistic survivor from a class-ridden age. Instead, there were sound practical reasons behind the styling of the different bars. Public bars, for example, were often frequented by men in overalls, covered in dust or plaster from nearby building sites. These were working people who would drop in for a quick pint, either at lunchtime, or on their way home. It wouldn’t have been practical for them to go home and get changed first.

Conversely, city business men, dressed in expensive suits, want to be rubbing shoulders with other men, or women, wearing the same attire, rather than with tradesmen straight off the construction site. This is just one example of the benefits of a multi-bar pub, and another one that Richard Boston was keen to remind us of was, prices were usually lower in the public bar. As stated earlier, the public bar was traditionally the place where games were played. In addition, if a pub has two bars regardless of what they might be called, it is relatively easy to avoid a group of people or an individual you don't particularly like, but the most important factor for a traditional pub is it’s a place where people can feel at home.

Despite these sound reasons for retaining multi-bar pubs, their numbers have continue to dwindle. Back in the mid 1970’s, when Boston was writing his book, the trend towards the abolition of the public bar and it's replacement by a barn-like interior was on the up. Unfortunately, that trend continued to gather pace, steadily but also stealthily, so much so that many of us didn't even notice it happening. Eventually a tipping point was reached, and now multi bar pubs are very much the exception rather than the rule, certainly in this part of the country.

I have however felt heartened after recent visits to towns and cities such as Bath, Burton-on-Trent, Sheffield, Henley on Thames, Norwich and of course Manchester. If you know where to look, and you're a connoisseur of good pubs you can still find pubs offering a variety of different rooms to drink in, including some with traditional public bars, so good hunting!