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!
