A rare foray into clubland

A couple of weeks ago, I made a brief and, for me, extremely rare foray into the world of clubland. Those who know me will be aware of my disdain of clubs, as there is something about these places that has never appealed to me. Clubs may well be places where cheap beer is available, but they often come across as soulless places, seemingly lacking atmosphere. And yet, whilst putting this article together, I was reminded that early on in my drinking career, myself, plus a handful of sixth form pals, were regular users of a club, on the outskirts of Ashford – the town where I grew up and went to school.

I have my school friend Roy, to thank for this early association with working man’s clubs, and he was also the same individual responsible for introducing me to beer in general, and to many of Ashford’s public houses. Another former school friend was responsible for familiarising me with a large number of rural pubs, mainly to the east of Ashford and down onto Romney Marsh. This was down to the fact that we both had motor-scooters, and enjoyed heading out into the Kent countryside, exploring the many pubs in the surrounding villages, under the pretext of enjoying a game of “arrows”.

That’s a story for another time, and for now, it’s back to clubland, and specifically the club house of Houchin Aerospace, a company which manufactured parts for the aviation industry. Houchin closed in 2014, with the loss of 47 jobs, but for 70 years, their factory on the edge of Ashford had been a successful enterprise, and a major employer in the town. Roy’s mother worked for the company, and I believe his sister did as well, and it was through their connections, that us sixth former's were able to use the club.

Before going any further, a quick word about clubs and their origins in the industrial heartlands of the North of England, the Midlands and South Wales. As institutions, Working Men’s Social Clubs came into being at the tail end of the 19^th century, by and for working class people in industrial areas. The very first social club was founded in Reddish, Greater Manchester, to give workers a place to relax. As well as the sale of alcohol, food was often provided, along with games such as pool, snooker and darts. In their heyday of the 1970s, there were some 4,000 working men’s clubs in operation across Britain, providing space to congregate, communicate, celebrate and, of course, to drink beer.

WMC’s remain fixtures in local communities, more than 120 years after their foundation and are run in much the same way as they always have been. Most are affiliates of the Working Men’s Club & Institute Union or CIU, although nowadays that reference to working men has been dropped. At the current count there are 2,200 registered social clubs within the CIU, with numbers still biased towards the North and the Midlands. Working men's clubs are run by their members through a committee, usually elected annually, with each club having its own set of rules, that include the payment of an annual subscription.

Whilst anyone can join a WMC, there is still a process that prospective members must apply through, before full membership is granted. This usually involves filling out a membership form, which will then have to be seconded by two members who know and can vouch for you. Your application will then be put before the Club committee and an interview held with you. The committee can, if necessary, discipline members (common punishments being a warning, or a ban for a period) for violations. Non-members are not allowed entry unless signed in by a member. I don’t recall having to do any of these things, back in the early 70’s, although with our school friend as a fully paid-up member, and us as quite free-spending individuals, I don’t think anyone was particularly concerned.

Life moves on, and in the autumn of 1973, our quite tightly, close-knit group of friends went our own separate ways. A small number remained in Ashford, having already gained regular employment, one joined the British Airways Flight Training School, at Hamble (somewhere in Hampshire, I believe), and eventually passed out as an airline pilot, but most of us went to university, in various cities and towns, scattered across the UK. We never really got back together as a group, and I’m fairly certain that with one possible exception, none of us set foot inside the Houchins’ club again.

I was much more interested in pubs when I returned to Kent for the Christmas, Easter and summer breaks, and had also developed a growing interest in cask beer – or Real Ale. Cask was a real rarity in clubs, and whilst it was still clinging on in many pubs, especially some of the smaller and more rural ones, it was viewed as having had its day. As we know, events proved otherwise, as CAMRA’s well-thought-out, and highly effective campaign, not only managed to stem cask’s decline, but set the scene for a spectacular turn around in its fortunes.

When I returned to live in Kent, back in the late 1970’s, real ale was quite readily available, at least in local pubs. Clubs were a different matter, not that I knew of any, and it wasn’t until I settled in Tonbridge, half a decade later, that clubs once again, re-entered my consciousness. As well as an being home to an important railway junction Tonbridge was also a “print” town, with two large printing works and associated publishers, based in the town. Whitefriars’ Press were one such company and had their own WMC – the Whitefriars’s Press Club. Their spacious premises, close to the station, are no more, having gone the same way as the printing company itself, but there were still several other WMC’s based in the town.

Over the years, I must have visited most these establishments, mainly for social events, either work or family occasions, and these included Tonbridge Working Men’s Club, Constitutional Club, Royal British Legion Club along with the aforementioned Whitefriars’ Club. None of these establishments stocked cask and therefore were of little interest to me. Things slowly changed, but not as quickly as us cask lovers would have liked, and not long after the demise of the Whitefriars, the same fate befell the Working Men’s Club. There were a few bright spots along the way with several, relatively nearby clubs not just stocking the odd cask beer, bur majoring in it as well. Locally we have Tunbridge Wells Constitutional Club, and Marden Social Club, but a little further away is the Dartford Working Man’s Club, an establishment that has since become a bastion of real ale.

To bring the story up to date, a couple of weeks ago, Mrs PBT’s and I attended a family function at the Cinque Ports Club in Uckfield. Over the course of the past 3-4 years, this mid-Sussex town has become home to Eileen’s sister, plus her niece with her own extended family. This was why, on one of the wettest Sundays in a long time, that we found ourselves, at this extensive and rather rambling club, slap bang in the middle of Uckfield. When Mrs PBT’s and I turned up, looking like a couple of drowned rats, we had to be signed in, in true club fashion, but despite my initial reservations, my spirits were raised by the sight of a bank of three hand pulls on the bar, dispensing a range of Harvey’s beers (Best Bitter, Old Ale & Mild.)

The Cinque Ports Club began life as the Commercial Hotel and then the King’s Head, before later becoming a social club.  As hinted at earlier, it is quite a rambling building, with an older, inner core and a couple of more recent additions. Like most other clubs, the Cinque Ports is owned by its members and run for its members, and as well as the aforementioned, well-stocked bar, the Club provides regular live entertainment and social activities. Membership is £15 per Annum with a £10 joining fee. Over 1800 members enjoy facilities including a large function room suitable for up to 200 people, a stage, large projector screen for TV and presentations and round banqueting tables. The main bar area has three seating areas, fruit machines, three plasma screens for live sports, a pool room, plus a digital juke box updated weekly with the latest music. For the more traditional minded, there are two darts boards, plus a pool table. 

If I lived where Eileen’s sister lives, (just 15 minutes’ walk away), then I’d almost certainly become a club, as the well-kept Harvey’s alone would be the deal-maker. Clubs have certainly come on a lot since the days when my school chums and I would spend evenings drinking fizzy Courage, keg beers, in the somewhat basic surroundings of the Houchin Sports & Social Club. I make that final statement guardedly, because the UK's public houses, will always hold a special place in my heart, and that's because as the name suggests, pubs are open to everyone regardless of gender, race or religion and, most importantly, with no membership requirements either.