The Metropole (I) – Hotel: Decline and Fall

Three big hotels come to mind as ‘Great Institutions of Portrush’ – the Northern Counties; The Golf Hotel (Castle Erin); and the Metropole. All three were landmarks; all now deceased. Two I remember with fond happy memories; for one,  I have no such affection.

Left/ from History of Portrush, Facebook  Right/  Destruction, 17th December 2009 (Photo: Source)

I see the almost-glamour and grandeur of the Hotel Metropole in the early 1900s, the claims to be the top hotel in Portrush. But remove that quite-grand portico and you get the rather plain frontage, on a busy crossroads location. And all I saw in my lifetime was its rather drab run-down appearance, seeming to go downhill every year, until derelict and put out of its misery by its destruction in 2009.

Maybe it could have been great. It is a prime landmark site – coming down from the top of the Coleraine road, it is there, the marker, the sign – you are arriving, you are here. It is on the big junction: from Coleraine, from Portstewart, going in to town, or going on to Bushmills and the Causeway – the Metropole corner is the landmark. It is the crossing point, from Croc-na-mac to go over to go to the west strand. It is the meeting-up place for going to Kelly’s or the goodbye place to go off in different directions afterwards. And was the awesome viewing point to see the NW-200 bikes screaming down the hill and then slowing for the hairpin corner to go on to Portstewart.
Maybe that is the problem: it was a place to go on to somewhere else – not particularly a place that you wanted to be.

When did it start? May 1907 and the national newspaper, the Daily Express, announces that the Hotel Metropole is open – alongside adverts for other top-notch resorts like Buncrana, Douglas Bay, Llandudno and Connemara.

And the local papers in June 1907:  “Now open, Hotel Metropole, Portrush.”

Its unique selling proposition? Prime access to the Portrush golf course, in its 20th year and growing strongly:

“Uninterrupted view of the famous Golf Links.
“Only 1 minute walk to the Golf Houses”
“Most convenient hotel to the Golf Links”
“Overlooking the Links”
“Immediately opposite the first green of the Golf Links”

From these blogs you will remember that Portrush golf began as the Triangle Golf Course, on the sandhills bordered by the train line, Croc-na-mac, and Causeway street. The clubhouses and the 1st tee and green were just over the road from the Metropole. But the golf courses were drifting further away, with new holes created at the Causeway street side and new courses expanding beyond and going out to the White Rocks. In the 1940s the golf clubhouses would completely move there; the Triangle would revert to sand dunes that I would race up and down on my bike and fly kites and play cowboys and indians.

The year after opening though, the hotel has a big coup. Early 1908 and the Saturday paper proudly announces that the “magnificient Hotel Metropole,” the “finest tourist hotel in Ireland” will host the Lord Lieutenant, the high heid ‘yin in Ireland!!!! This is going to launch the Metropole on to the world stage, with great publicity and glowing reports of his luxurious stay will be in the top newspapers.

(PS I have never tried to spell ‘high heid ‘yin’ before.)

The Metropole then sure features in Monday’s newspaper (right) and it is indeed amongst the Court circle pages of the big London newspapers, amongst descriptions of the Lady Dowager of Russia having tea at Buck’ House, and of Prince of Wales at Scotland Yard seeing the new technique of finger-printing for crime detection. But – over that weekend there was the death of his mother-in-law and the Lord Lieutenant had to return to London. No glowing newspaper reports then, only the news that his County Antrim arrangements and his Metropole visit are cancelled, immediately. 

To me, that sums up the life of the Metropole: it almost made it, but not quite.

Newspapers are so awesome, so real, so ‘live action.’ In 1909 there is the story of the ‘advertising skating carnival’ at Portrush Pavilion, out the side of Barry’s, with familiar names like Hill Bros. and Torrens as winners. Alongside that skating news though is the court case: the owner of the Metropole, a Justice of the Peace, is being hauled up for non-payment of rates. The Metropole is not doing well financially.

So, goodbye to Mr Davison JP, and time for a fresh start. In the Portrush hotel adverts of 1910, the Metropole is ‘Under ENTIRELY new management.’ So, new opportunities with the new owners, the Mason family, previously of a Carlisle hotel.

But!!! the Metropole location is at that prime road junction location – and almost immediately they are faced with the prospects of transport difficulties, of plans to extend the Causeway tram around the Metropole:

Not nice attractive excursion trams, but branch lines for trams laden with stones as quarrying activity ramps up around the town. Freight trams will run along Croc-na-mac down the side of the hotel through the dry arch and along the promenade to the harbour; two other lines will go past the front door of your magnificent hotel and down golf terrace to the train station and the harbour. There was relief fo rthe Metropole in that the prospects of level crossing gates across the main access roads was frowned upon and that threat of that tram line development went away, but maybe it highlights the location of the Metropole – a bit precarious, vehicle traffice all around.

Another selling feature of the Metropole was – its Garage.
“Finest motor garage in the district.”
“Excellent motor garage.”
Sorry again, that doesn’t quite win it for me. It is like the service stations at interchanges of Britain’s motorways – surrounded by roads, always traffic and noise. I guess in the early 1900s, motor travel was a luxury, a novelty, and if you are doing your round-Ulster driving tour you want to know there is a garage. It might be good as a pit-stop but otherwise the Metropole corner never seemed to me to be an attractive holiday location – a busy road junction, hotel very close to the road, no view of the sea, noisy train line behind, and not in town centre. 

But at least it has a good garage.
And I love the phone number: Telephone No. 5.

After WW1, 1921, it is the Age of Empire. The New World is open and there are ships going to New York, Canada, and Australia. Everyone is on the move! and up there, on the same page as cruises to the Black Sea and Norway – is…… the Metropole hotel, and train excursions to Portstewart and Portrush.

But, still a failing hotel? A year later it is bought by the Presbyterian Health Society and becomes the Portrush Rest Home. The Society provides health services – treatment, dentistry, optical care – for its members, and the brochure proclaims Portrush as the first rest home facility of its kind. The Society hoped it would prompt the government towards providing such care, which came in with the NHS, over 20 years later.

A few years later though, the annual reports of the Presbyterian Society moan that the Rest Home is under-used, that the number of people staying is not as expected – and the Metropole is on the move again. It is bought by the Stewart Bros. family of Portrush – they had the garage in Victoria St, that burned in 1923 destroying 30 jalopies and the Kelly Hall too (“the most extensive fireworks ever seen in the district” – I hope that you have read that episode). It reopens, now known as the more-familiar ‘Metropole Hotel.’ That sounds better to me: “Hotel Metropole” sounds a bit hoity-toity, a bit south of France-y, to me.

And the Metropole Hotel is open during the 1930 ‘Shopping Week’ that promotes local produce and business. (‘Toners’ stationers,’ on Eglinton St? wow, that is a distant memory!) And by coincidence, HMS Rodney, described as the most powerful battleship in the world, is in town and helps to open the celebrations – and to have a street named after it, as well.

The Stewarts also have the transport business, with buses and excursions, and in the 1930s motor transport is boosted with the start of the NW-200 and great touring holidays.  (Images: Ulster Transport leaflets)

The transport business changes though in the first days of 1936 when Stewarts, and all other private transport operators around Northern Ireland, are nationalised under the Ulster Transport Association.

And just for interest, the article on the left, from the same page, describes the New Year festivities at the Northern Counties, including the swimming gata in their new indoor swimming pool.

Wartime, 1940, and the Metropole Hotel, and the whole nation, are raising funds for planes: “More Spitfires mean fewer Messerschmitts and Heinkels and Dorniers,” with dances and whist drives at the Metropole.

In Belfast, Harland and Wolff shipyard was one of the biggest in the world and built 3,000 vessels during the war years; and Short Bros. was making the Sunderland flying boat and the Stirling long-range heavy bomber; and James Mackie was the main supplier of Bofors anti-aircraft shells; and flax mills were making aircraft materials. Targets for four nights of Blitz in April and early May 1941 left 100,000 homeless. The 15th April raid of 200 bombers left 900 dead – the largest loss of life in one raid, outside of London. Sheila Brown writes, “We came through the Blitz in Belfast – I remember the planes over our farm. Bad night – the war was a bad time.” The city was in ruins and government offices are moved out of the city: the Metropole Hotel in Portrush is requisitioned for the “Ministry of Finance (Ulster Savings Branch)”.

It is the end of the Metropole’s life as an hotel.

Trish Gray writes: “My Mum, Winifred McCallion, was evacuated to Portrush from Belfast during the 2nd World War, as part of the Ministry of Savings?? I’m sure it had a better title than that… They used to walk from the Metropole to their lodgings (in my Mum’s case, Antrim Gardens, run by the Johnstons, I believe), rush their lunch, then back to the Metropole. All in 1 hour!
“I remember Mum mentioning Miss May (Isobel?), but really not sure…   
When Mum got married in 1951, she had to leave the civil service.”

Reba Jackson remembers that “Miss Kathleen Galbraith worked in it when it was Ministry of Finance – she went on to be a nurse. As far as I know she is still in Coleraine. Mrs Annie Leighton was a patient in it years ago – she used to live beside Ballywillan old Cemetry.”
And Olive Byers writes that her mum Betty Sandford worked in the Ministry there during the war, and that she used to travel by bus from Portstewart in a coat that her aunt made her out of an army blanket.

The Blitz on Belfast, and all round the war situation is severe. The same page announcing that the Metropole “Will not be open” writes about the Home Guard defence, the battle for Russia, Tobruk, U-boat wars, and Ulster being in the hunt for the Bismarck.

The Ministry of Finance/Ulster Savings continued at the Metropole after the war, then in 1964 the offices moved over to Crown Buildings at Artillery road in Coleraine, and the Metropole converted into a convalescent and holiday home for the elderly. The police station over the road gets heavily fortified in the Troubles in the 70s, rather souring the outlook, but even so the Metropole gets a glowing report from Mr Sharkey in 1976, as the ‘Happiness Hotel’.

I was never inside the Metropole but one of its best uses was outside, as a viewing point to see the NW-200 – photo below, 1975 (source). In the 1929 photo in my Wall of Death blog, the NW-200 view looking up the hill was of open countryside (I think with Portrush hockey club pitch, until 1935), with the Metropole being the last of Portrush buildings.

Personally, my further prejudice against the Metropole: we were out for a walk to the west strand and I was telling my brother that my dad, Segeant Martin, had tripped that day as he was walking back along Croc-na-mac for lunch. I was acting out the scene but too energetically, and I swung my leg too quickly, knocking myself off balance, and I fell over myself – right at the Metropole corner, and right in front of the rather nice girl who went past, smiling sweetly and condescendingly at my idiocy.

In 1994, and the Metropole corner is a big part of the new road traffic system, and new signs and directions appear all around the town – including outside our front room window, spoiling our view up the new road. It might be coincidence but the Dunluce Centre had opened in 1993 and the road system directed the traffic up the new road to go past that building. I am only saying.

The care home had finished a number of years earlier, and the Metropole was used as a clinic for a while. Sheila Kane remembers taking her toddler there for a routine ‘development check up’ about 1994. The clinic “was in a pretty grotty part on the ground floor facing the police station.” The Metropole had been vacant for several years and Mr. Drew Hempton bought it after public auction about 1993. His son An tells me that Drew renovated it and brought it up to standard as accomodation for Coleraine university students.

Known as “Metropole house,” that arrangement with the NUU finished about 1997 when the university provided purpose-built accomodation in Coleraine, denting the Portrush accomodation business. The Metropole then became a low-cost self-catering hostel – very busy during NW-200 times, and rented out for summer lets, and winter lets for foreign workers maybe for 2 month stints. Mr Hempton thought to renovate in 2007 but instead sold up about 2008; the new developers asked him to stay to keep it running as a going concern.

Left/ 1910s postcard of Hotel Metrople (Courtesy: Sheila Brown)) Right/ 2012, Demolition of Metropole Hotel (Source: google)

Back in 1907, a Metropole advert said a 2-night weekend stay in June with meals was 15s 6′ – with inflation, I reckon that as £60/person in 2007 money. By contrast, Karen Monkeith describes her stays there in mid-2000s: “I remember there was a huge sign on the wall – £8 per night weekdays and £10 a night at weekends. That’s per room – that was so great for families because it was so reasonable, but on Lush club nights thousands of ravers would descend on Portrush from all over NI and many would stay here – a strong disposition was required to get through those nights!

“It is interesting to read about its time as a nursing home because all the original furnishings were still there, and there was a rumbly old creaky wooden lift which had a concertina gate that you pulled over (with great effort) to get the lift moving. Thankfully it had a beautiful rambling old staircase which was much easier on the nerves.

“Each landing had a huge old leather wingback chair in front of a big old telly. I remember passing a little kid sitting there one morning silently watching cartoons, a creepy scene like this in my hungover state was terrifying!

“There was a lot of rooms, many still with the old hospital beds. A room at the back meant a late night and an early start because the train track ran alongside the building (we have no trains in the west so this was a novelty lol). There was a shared kitchen/dining area where you would meet lots of different characters.”

Mr Hempton, the son of the last proprietor, tells me that it had 40 bedrooms, large, and on busy times like the NW-200 weeks or after Lush events that there might be 100 people staying. It is just my guess that it was a rowdy, boisterous, chaotic place to stay!

Mr Hempton sold up about 2008, though stayed on for a while as a manager. Metropole House was empty and derelict from mid-2009. There was a rough sleeper on the top floor, a fire started there, and it was the end of the Metropole iin December 2009.

Karen wrote, “It was not for the faint of heart!” and continues, “It’s such a shame it’s gone, I loved the Metropole building. It had a dark ominous feel about it as is often in old historical buildings. I just know Stanley Kubrick would’ve loved it too!”

and Shane H writes, “I only ever stayed in the place once. Thank God……”

From dereliction after the fire it was part of ‘Eyesores to be cleaned up’ (Belfast Telegraph March 14 2012) and the giant billboard added for the Irish Open golf in 2012 – the success of that golf competition paved the way for The Open in 2019.

Overall: maybe there were good times for the Metropole, maybe with the Stewarts as a motoring holiday pit-stop and for the early days of the NW-200 in the 1930s, and as the Happiness Hotel in the 1970s. Overall though institutionalised with years of being a rest home or care home, regular big changes of usage and owner, and each change seeming to me to be a step lower, from its heyday of the Lord Lieutenant visit that never happened.

Me, it could be that I am being too much of a downer on the Metropole – I was far too old to use it as accomodation for going to Lush nights – do let me know if you have more positive experiences. Maybe I am just biased against it, it having tripped me up on the pavement outside.

More reading:
http://lisburn.com/books/ulster/ulster-Guide-adverts1.html
Metropole Hotel Portrush Demolition – YouTube
Destruction:  https://images.app.goo.gl/HNFQUBQqVLQgg6Ku8
Metropole Hotel Fire – 17th December 2009
https://discoverportrush.com/buildings/hotels-restaurants-cafes/metropole-hotel/
British Newspaper Archive

Barry’s and the Wall of Death

There is a scene in the 2011 film, “We Bought A Zoo”, with Matt Damon and the gorgeous Scarlett Johannsson, where you see his office and on the wall behind him are a set of photographs. And on one of them is a motorcyclist.

He is George Brockerton. A Coleraine boy, he rode in the first NW-200, raced and won in the Ulster Grand Prix and Isle of Man TT, and had a cafe at Ballyreagh along the road to Portstewart.

He served in both world wars, rode the Wall of Death outside Barry’s. He is an awesome super-hero – and an ordinary guy too.

Until 3 weeks ago, I had not heard of him.  I must tell his story.

The Wall of Death stadium was out the back of Barry’s. Was I really there, do I remember it? or am I remembering the postcard with the image  of the bike rider, standing on the saddle, going higher and higher up the track? It is the Wall of Death.

George Brockerton grew up in Coleraine. He learnt to ride a motorbike at the age of twelve – me, I think I just about managed to ride an ordinary bike by that age, He followed his father into the army during WWI as a despatch rider, and they said about him, “No-one could ride the gauntlet of barrages better then he.”

Peace time and he was a scout for the RAC. Then his motor-racing career took off in the 1920s, as a works rider for the English Osborn Engineering Company, competing regularly in the Isle of Man TT, winning the Ulster Grand Prix in 1928, and the Ulster prize in 1929 on a Zenith motorbike.

The first North West 200 was in 1929; Brockerton competed, and later he managed the event with the Coleraine and District Motor Cycle dub.

Left/ the route, with George as no. 6, right of centre Right/ the (house-less) “Metropole” corner – “An excellent view of the race from here, on account of the open countryside.”

Jack Delino’s Wall of Death was a big attraction at Barry’s at Portrush in the 1930s. George entered a challenge and pulled off the dare devil test, and then he took over the show and took it all over Ireland and then to Holland and Italy. He did stunts with the film star Anna May, and with a circus in Italy with a lion in a side car – meeting Mussolini at his World Fair.

Left, 1930, The Death Wall, then morphed to….. Right 1932, Wall of Death, now with Brockerton

My brother Trevor says, : “Don’t know what to say about the wall of death other than my recollection is, (1) it was only in town one year, (2) the show didn’t last too long and (3) I saved up all my newspaper delivery money to buy a ticket – it cost a lot to get in – and then afterwards they asked people to throw more money into the ring!”

My eldest brother Jim, says, “I don’t even remember the wall.”   Honestly!

Another occasion, an American cameraman wanted to record a stunt during his filming about the Antrim Coast, and George volunteered to ride his motorcycle across the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge. His handlebars were too wide for the bridge ropes – he borrowed a hacksaw from a local farmer and cut them off – and rode over the swaying bridge, and back again. (Er, walking across the rope bridge is difficult enough for me at the best of times – but to ride it ????)

I don’t think it is George Brockerton but that postcard (left) looks like the one I remember from my childhood!
And right, lion in sidecar! do see the little 1934 Pathe film clip, Wall of Death in the US.

WWII, and George was an instructor to despatch riders. At Dunkirk he rescued 81 man trapped in a cellar, using grenades to blast an escape hole for them. And then he found them wine and food and entertained them with conjuring tricks, before disappearing himself without giving his name, saying, “Men, that’s my hobby, risking my life.”

‘George on Bitza, 1951 Ulster Grand Prix. The Bitza – made from 10 different machines.

Peace time again, and he took up competive racing on his home made motorbike, which he nicknamed ‘The Bitza’ – bits of this, bits of that. George was now in his ’50s, but still winning races in the 1950s.

Sheila Brown, at Tides at Ballyreagh: “I remember him on an old Bitza bike, he won trophies & in the Isle of Man. He owned the cafe beside us, that was run in our day by the Fishers. I think George Brockerton was in the wall of death in Barry’s. We used to watch for him – it was all a gimmick, him in the race.”

Gerald Bradley writes: “When we stayed in the caravan site at Ballyreagh beside Blair’s shop we would have had our breakfast in George Brockerton’s roadhouse. And I remember seeing George riding the Wall of Death in Barry’s, riding his motor bike around the walls at great speed, and also seeing him in the Ulster Grand Prix on his Bitza bike.
George was a real showman – famous too for wearing a large sombrero hat.”

Reba Jackson writes, “”I remember my father enjoying the Wall of Death by talented bike riders doing amazing stunts. I was not so keen to watch!”

Always a showman, the Wall of Death show was extended by a ‘Globe of Death’ – George had it made at Harlaand and Wolff. Right/ Wall of Death, frm film ‘Eat the Peach‘

Ken Mcallister: “Yes i remember the the wall of death right outside the back door of Barry’s – the noise was unbelieveable. But the crowds loved it. There was also Musical Marie, who played the piano non-stop, for 4 days – but joe donnelly and i caught them out; she went for a cup of tea but the piano was playing but with nobody near it!”

Bobby Ann writes: “My father was a frequent visitor to the Brockerton house on Portstewart road. His brother worked for UTA (Ulster Transport Assoc.) as did my dad & uncle. I knew his sister Margaret, Mrs Stockman, Causeway St – the grandmother to Karen & Michele Ross, Derek owned the rock shop. L. V Ross, his mother, had the other shop in front of Masons.
My dad had loads of stories, even about stripping George’s bike a few times.. They were young & motor bike mad!”

Fred Williams writes: “Yes I remember the Wall of Death – a long time ago so a bit vague! I think there was a gentleman called George Brockerton had something to do with it. He was also the compère at the first go-cart races at the back of the Chapel. He also used to show black and white films – he used back projection which made the film back to front. Yes I remember watching his films, sitting on the grass at Ramore Head: there was an old wooden hut we called the piero hut – a wooden hut on the grass down opposite the recreation ground cafeteria, not in the recreation grounds but on the grassy slope of Ramore Head.”

Portrush Pierrot troup, the Arcadians, also with the hut on Ramore Head

Gerald says that, “During the winter months George showed films around the villages in Orange Halls,” taking the thrills of the Wild West and Broadway to the people in the villages and townlands of Ulster. He resurrected a magic act and “entertained people in a room on Portrush Main St” – perhaps the pierrot hut that Fred mentions – and in hotels. And I see the Dart pub in Coleraine mentioned.

In his last season, 1965, he toured the UK both as a Wall of Death rider and as a performer in the ‘Globe of Death’ — a metal sphere which he had custom-built at Belfast ship-builder’s Harland and Wolff. Cyril Davison remembers the Wall of Death and says he rode a motor bike with George Brockerton on the Wall of Death and an ordinary bicycle in the Cage of Death.

The Big Dipper appearred at Barry’s in 1968 season, so I assume the Wall of Death was there until early 1960s.

So, amazing life story of George Brockerton, larger than life, world wars and adventures, first NW-200, motor bike racing – and with the ordinary stuff too, runing a pub in Coleraine, the roadside cafe at Ballyreagh, showing films in local halls.

I don’t go for these stories as nostalgia, good ol’ days, but always as life stories, to thrill and inspire us in these days, going forward. So, George Brockerton: what a guy!

============
Portrush, Easter – My Day in Barry’s
It is the cacophony of noise and the flashing of neon lights and the smells of sickly popcorn and of grease that hits you when you walk in the front door of Barry’s. And the electric sparking of the Speedway. And the excitement.
It is Easter Saturday, the opening day of the season…

Barry’s and the Wall of Death
George Brockerton, a Coleraine boy. He rode in the first NW-200, raced and won in the Ulster Grand Prix and Isle of Man TT, and had a cafe at Ballyreagh along the road to Portstewart.
He served in both world wars, rode the Wall of Death outside Barry’s. He is an awesome super-hero – and an ordinary guy too.
Until 3 weeks ago, I had not heard of him. I must tell his story.

Barry’s and the Helter Skelter
“Back then employment law was a lot more relaxed and you could work from 10am to 10pm with two one hour breaks. In my favourite season I spent all summer at the top of the ‘Slip’ or Helter Skelter with Graeme Tosh collecting the money at the bottom of the slide. Now that was a great summer, sitting getting a tan with a bird’s eye view of everything happening in Portrush.”

Sources:
https://www.pressreader.com/uk/belfast-telegraph/20110107/282071978342485
https://issuu.com/thecolumban/docs/may-2011/18
http://www.justpeoplelikeus.com/blog/the-first-north-west-200-20th-april-1929
From Irene Peden, The Wall of Death:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1604149776578271/permalink/1650736421919606

Dhu Varren – The town between the ports

“When I was six, in 1968, our family came to Portrush, from Bangor, via two years in Strabane (a good move, Dad!) for Dad, who was known to everyone else as Knox, to begin his new job as Knox Thompson, manager of The White House. Initially we rented a house called Gorse Cottage on Blackrock Road and then we moved into a big, dilapidated Edwardian house in Dhu Varren.”

Left, from Trish Gray: “My dad & mum, Billy and Winifred Lee, outside L’Atelier in Main Street”
Centre, from Ian King: “Here’s a picture of me (Ian King), Martin Lee, and ‘wee Pete-y’ (Peter Thompson) as his Dad sometimes called him, about 1969. A tie? A suede tie? …on a 13 year old boy on a Saturday. Good lord, that was a bit cool then, but how things have changed.”
Right, from Ruth Thompson: “My Dad, Knox Thompson – oh everyone ( particularly the older generation) knows Dad in Portrush. He was very involved in Royal Portrush and was president of Portrush Chamber of Commerce at one point.”

In this episode, near-finale of the series, we will look at Dhu Varren, ‘The Town Between The Towns,’ as told by Ruth Thompson.

As background story of the area, Dhu Varren doesn’t exist in the early 1800s maps, with the road towards Coleraine going up towards the townland of Glenmanus. The Portstewart road only opened with the coast road development in the 1850s, and soon the enormous Craig Dhu Varren house was built, the Seat of a military gentleman, a General Beresford- Beresford. It is an amazing story – and I only heard of him via a little throwaway comment in 1923 writings about Ballyreagh castle, “It is near the house occupied by the late General Beresford, at Dhu Varren.”

Map of Dhu Varren, early 1900s (from PRONI). Just fields in the early 1800s map, no road to Portstewart until 1850s, and it was brought into Portrush district in early 1900s.
Right/ Craig Dhu Varren was the seat of aristocratic Beresford- Beresford family. The father was Alderman of Dublin in early 1800s, and the Major served in the Punjab Campaign and the Indian Mutiny in the 1850s, I assume he retired to Portrush and built the house.
WWI, a son-in-law Reservist Lieutenant Kell, died on HMS Cressey, with 2 other ships in the group also sunk by that one U-boat, on the same day, 7 weeks into the war, Sepember 1914. Three large, slow cruisers, and manned mostly by reservists: that catatrophe drove a shake-up of navy strategy. Kell’s widow Belissa, the 4th daughter of General Bereford, re-married a Commander Grant in 1918 at Holy Trinity in the town.
When the contents of their house went it up for sale in the 1935 it was an amazing smorgasbord of the British empire – with inlaid mahogany furniture from Kashmir, Bengal, Japan, Persian carpets, Ethiopean shields, Indian carved wood overmantels, …..

For developments at Dhu Varren, there was a new golf course opened in the 1890s, short holes, “laid out on the sand-dunes, between the railway line and the west strand” – so, who knew that?? – and in the early 1900s the area was absorbed into Portrush council, and housing development started. The Beresford’s sold the Craig Dhu Varren property to new owners in the early 1920s; it sat empty, but was destroyed by fire (that had also happened in 1883) in 1926. There was talk of arson but oh no no, that sort of deviousness – arson, and re-development of the land – just doesn’t happen in Portrush.

1895, and what a lot of news!! There is the opening of the new golf course, and the article describes the changeover day of visitors to the town, and of Laird steamer sailings from Gourock, and of Barnardo’s of Dhu Varren giving an entertainment, and of CSSM, the seaside mission.
And newspapers are so awesome! On that same day there is a new Westminister government – Ireland is ruled from the government at Dublin at this time. I see AJ Balfour in the cabinet (of ‘Balfour Declaration’ fame), a strong Unionist voice who became the advocate for Home Rule for the 6 counties at Westminister in the run up to the 1922 Partition of Ireland.

Even though Dhu Varren was absorbed into Portrush, Ian King writes, “Back then the ‘dry arch’ under the railway line still seemed to me to mark a boundary between two kinds of residential Portrush: the Croc-na-mac /New Road /Hopefield Ave/ Coleraine Road Portrush – and the Dhu Varren /West Strand /Black Rocks one, like a warp in space / time.”

Anyway, from my point of view, there was some nice talent that lived up the Portsteward Rd. And my brother sometimes took me with him on friendly visits to see Andrine MacWilliams. She studied German at Queen’s, and did a year or something experience as au pair in Germany. She talked about her plans to go to see some celebrated passion play, the Easter story, that a town in Bavaria puts on every ten years – as their pledge if saved through the bubonic plague. I had never heard of the place – until now, being in Munich, it is about 70 miles down the road – we regularly went there for walking, and we had tickets to go and see the 2020 passion play at Oberammergau – but of course, Covid-postponed.

Anyway, digression! Back to Ruth:

Marion & Knox Thompson; Lisdivin Lodge, with Ruth “posing at the front door”

“The house needed a huge amount of work doing to it but my older brothers, Peter and Mark and I were put to task along with my parents to start the renovations. Neighbours were roped in too – I remember the Donaldsons being there a lot, helping peeling off layers of wall paper, painting over lots of brown and dark green paint and scraping old varnish off the big banisters and stair rails with pieces of glass – what health and safety??! The house even had a bell ringer in each room and a board with bells and each room name on it in the kitchen – very Downton!  Sadly, that wasn’t saved in the rush to modernise, although many other original features were. There was no central heating or double glazing for a long time and my daughter still thinks I was a Victorian child from when I told her tales of ice patterns on the inside of the windows in the winter as it was so cold.   

“The house was originally red brick, but had to be pebble dashed in later years as the salt air was simply eroding the brick.  It was a fabulous house to grow up in – the top floor was given over play rooms – I with my dollies’ hospital or library (a hint of a career to come) and my brothers with their Jimi Hendrix posters, snooker table and darts board – no gender stereotypes there!  It was diagonally opposite an enormous house on a hill, owned by, I think, a Mr Milner who had a Pyrenean Mountain Dog which I adored and made every excuse to visit. My grandfather, a keen gardener, lived with us for some time and discovered a perfect 1920s rock garden about 18 inches under the back lawn, complete with herringbone brick paths, steps and two Giant’s causeway stones- obviously purloined by some naughty Edwardian inhabitant!    

Another dhu varren military gentleman, taken captive after the fall of Singapore in 1942. The telegram arrives in 1945: I cannot imagine the terror of opening the envelope – but then the joy at the good news.

“The other thing great thing was that we were on the bend in the road and as we had a generous front garden it was a great viewing point for the NW 200. I can still smell the weird combination of motorbike fumes and the sandwiches that Mum kept producing all day for friends and family who set up camp for the weekend at the front of the house.

“And Number 51, Mr Dunlop or whoever it was, comes roaring up from Metropole corner to Juniper Hill at speeds approaching 100 mph !” Photo courtesy Ian King, and he writes: “North West 2000 mid-1960s. No safety barriers (at all). Everybody was very smartly dressed – shiny shoes, and smart raincoats.”

Left: “White Hall”, the barracks for troops in WWII (Photo courtesy Sheila Brown).
And behind, Dhu Varren railway halt, opened 1969 mostly aimed at uni traffic. From her bedroom, Trish Gray watched the smoke of the train behind the Milner’s house, “The Whins”, with the regular occurrence of the embankment scrub and gorse going on fire from the hot ash thrown from the train!

“Most importantly as a child, that house was also a great base for running freely around the area. The big hill at the back leading down to the West Strand was just our playground, with forts dug in the sand and when the snow occasionally stuck, we transformed our wooden belly boards into sleighs. For me the best bit of living there was literally being a stone’s throw from the beach and the rocks. At one point probably age about 9 or 10 I started up a club called Portrush Beach Club, – with a members’ badge, a bookmark and rules. (Yep – organised and bossy even then…) As a child I was completely obsessed with rock pool fishing and as soon as the tide was out each day after school or in the holidays I’d be off with my bucket and net down to the Black Rocks with friends from nearby. We knew every pool inside out and would spend hours down there and we always put the crabs and fish and shrimps back.

Ruth’s 11th birthday party, early 70s, Dhu Varren.
Janice F S says, “Yes that’s me in the white trousers… I cut my own fringe to look like Dave Hill out of Slade – for why I don’t know why!!! Look how happy we were! Ruth always threw fabulous parties, her mum Marion was a great baker!”

Just across the road from the NW-200 photo spot is the Mill Strand Integrated school, one of the first Integrated schools in Northern Ireland. ‘Glenmanus House’ was built about 1861, on land from the Craig Dhu Varren estate. Again, an awesome property – advertised as a “Beautiful marine residence,” “splendid, delightfully situated,” “first class Mansion” – and I have never known an estate agents to exaggerate! It was owned by a military man, Captain Sterling, of HM’s 64th Foot. Hugh Lecky JP, of the Causeway family, married the “2nd daughter of George Claudius Beresford Stirling” – they are all inter-related somehow, also a General Smylie appears too, another connection – in 1876. The selling solicitor was a Mr. Crookshank – he himself was connected to many families in Ireland and I see in 1878 he himself is living at Glenmanus House.
Glenmanus sheltered the Beresford family when Craig Dhu Varren, “less than a pistol shot away”, was destroyed by fire in 1888. The reporter remembered the fire of 30 years earlier that destroyed Downhill Castle with “its priceless art treasures, valuable library and costly furniture.” Later, 1913 reports the death of that Mr Robert Crookshank, described as one of the best-known solicitors in Ireland, and very active in Portrush life for 50 years.
The house became the HQ for W & J Taggart’s the builders, about 1961. In the 1980s, a group of families re-mortgaged their homes to buy the house and set up the school, which opened in 1987.

“In my teens I got into surfing (and boys… yes, the two were linked) and our house was a popular place to hang out, especially for frozen surfers trying to warm up with Mum’s soup after being in the frankly, Baltic sea conditions at the bottom of the hill. 

Dhu Varren businesses: Left – Dairy // 2 – Barnardo’s, with primary school fund-raising by buying the ‘present’ off the christmas tree card // 3 – Belfast Newsletter, 1904: “Hopedune” school at Dhu Varren, but more interesting, Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show in Stranraer, and excursion tickets to get there!!

“As I got older the beach and rocks would become a place of calm and refuge from the usual teenage dramas. I couldn’t sleep the night before one of my A level exams, mostly because I knew I hadn’t done enough work… so I got up about 5 am and walked down to the rocks and just sat there, listening to the waves and breathing in the clean sea breeze, contemplating the future until the sun came up and I had calmed down.

Dhu Varren : maritime things! Oh, and Ian King tells me that the name, ‘Dhubh Aran’ means ‘black bread’ and wonders if the Black Rocks looked like from the west strand? But the rocks did for the cargo steamer, The Towey, ran aground, 1930, just off the dhu varren coast
Centre & Right: some people re-build their prize MG sports car, or have a table-tennis table, in their garage: dhu varren people build boats in their garage and then sail them !

“I always knew we were so lucky to live so close to the beach and when I went off to University in Manchester at 18 years old, I couldn’t get to sleep at night at first, not because I was particularly homesick, but, as I realised after a while, because I couldn’t hear the sound of the sea as I drifted off to sleep.  

“If I have had major decisions to make, or thoughts to think, I still find if I am near the sea, or as a second best a river or lake, I can always think more clearly there.”

I am really amazed. The stone bins at the harbour were pretty much defunct all my years, and were removed in 1983. But quarrying and stones was a big industry: the causeway tram was originally intended for the transport of stones from quarries as far as Bushmills, then the route extended for visitors to get to the causeway. With new owners and expansion of the quarrying business in 1912, expansion of tramways all over the town was proposed – extending along Croc-na-mac for the transport of stones to the harbour and shipping onwards. Here, I see a quarry at Dhu Varren on the map, above, and the proposal for a tramline to run through Maghernamena and Glenmanus to Portstewart Rd, although it sounds like the idea of gates and level crossings on a main road was not agreeable. Transporting 400 tons of stones a day seems a lot to me !

And Ruth says, “That everyone knew everyone around there – I could reel off the names of almost everyone who lived in that main terrace of Dhu Varren and beyond, and I still find it slightly disconcerting  that whilst I have had some lovely neighbours in various places I have lived in England that I will never know as many of them as I did in Portrush.”

Left – diving at the wreck of the steamer Towy (Source: Dive NI), and Right/ Whisky Galore! the wreck of the Lansdale (believed re-floated later) (Courtesy: Trish Gray)

Coast path – Tides, Typhoid and Tornado

A nice summer evening (or post-Christmas lunch) activity is to walk the coast path from Portrush and to have an ice cream in Morelli’s in Portstewart. Well it might be winter and snowy at the moment but let’s do this trip, and on the way there will be a few star appearances, including of stage and screen…

So, from Croc-na-mac…. And the first excitement is to go through the dry arch and to be able to go ECHO!! Echo echo.
So childish!
but I just can’t help myself, I just gotta do it.
Same for arches and underground car parks everywhere – I just have to.

The next exciting thing to see is …….. Well, the nice big sewage works. You know, those horrible EU people, they define standards for beach quality and water cleanliness, and have the colour flag as indicators. And that drove the clean-up of the beaches and the big sewage works around Portrush, with the dredger anchored off the coast for months and the big pipework running away out to sea.

Dredger, was out in the West Bay for months (Photo: courtesy Maureen Kane)

Honestly, how dare the EU interfere and impose regulations like that?  I used to love the bubbly gungy scum that floated around off Ramore Head and came into the Giant’s Washtub, it was so interesting to see. The EU has spoiled that pleasure.

Approaching Dhu Varren, we have a special guide: Trish Gray, whose dad, Billy Lee, was the photographer at L’Atelier, downtown – but where so much of the photographic history of Portrush and Antrim coast went up in the fires of his Main St studio in the bombing of 1976.

The Lee family house was at the top of the hill and Trish writes:

“Portrush was a great place to grow up in, and living in Dhu Varren gave us plenty of open space to play in, and plenty of people to play with! And everyone knew everyone else.

“Back in the early 60’s, it was relatively undeveloped. The land below Black Rock Road was open ground, with small cabins on it, not the mass of houses that it is today. On the bottom left of the left photo there is a big open sandy area – known as ‘the sandpit’.  For several years, the local kids all built a ‘huge’ bonfire for Hallowe’en. The picture shows ‘the prom’ being built from Castle Erin to the bottom of Dhu Varren, and some years later, it would be extended right up to the top of Dhu Varren hill, to just below the ‘over-hanging’  house, which was the talk of the town when it was built! It certainly made the most of the view!

Left: Dhu Varren, 1960s (Photo: John Donaldson)
Right: Martin Lee, with Richard Rosborough & Peter Thompson – all Dhu Varren people (Photo: Billy Lee)

“We lived at the upper end of Dhu Varren. There was a lovely big open field nearby, covered in gorse, with a path to the side, which led right down to the rocks. There seemed to be very few rules in those days, apart from – behave yourselves & your tea will be on the table at x. Total freedom. We all sort of gathered like amoebas, whoever was out and about, with bikes, or on feet. In and out of each other’s houses. We certainly made our own amusement, from hide-outs in the sandhills, to biking down the hillside (before mountain biking was a thing!). Swimming, surfing with belly boards, sledging and snowball fights on the few days there was snow. If it was raining, there was always Monopoly in the dining room, where a game could go on for days… And as we grew older, it became more boats, Portrush Yacht Club, guitars and loud music – before we all went our separate ways.”

The walk joins the main road for a little, on Juniper Hill, and that brings all the excitement of the NW-200!

February 1929, and first discussion of a road race in Portrush council (and ‘New Shelter’ and other developments in the town)

Trish remembers the NW-200 as, “A mix between the noise, the fumes and the family who came from near and far to watch the race. We even came over from Scotland together with friends from Leicester one year.”

Another Dhu Varren-ite, Ruth Thompson, remembers:

“Another thing great thing about our house was that we were on the bend in the road and as we had a generous front garden it was a great viewing point for the NW-200. I can still smell the weird combination of motorbike fumes and the sandwiches that Mum kept producing all day for friends and family who set up camp for the weekend at the front of the house.”

heila Blair, Croc-na-mac shop, 1965

And Sheila Brown, a bit further at Tides location, writes about the 1960s, “Practice races for the North-West in those years were at 5am in morning. Artie Bell & Geoff Duke were No 1 & No 2, but the bikes were so noisy!”

Speaking of speedsters, my brother got to take my eledest brother’s new car for a spin – and was shocked to find that, coming from Portstewart, that he was approaching Juniper Hill corner at 80 mph – the car was so smooth and powerful, wow speeds ran away with him! But these years were desperate for road accidents – the big growth in car numbers, but with many accidents, and the level of fatalities in NI was on the scale of the whole population of Portrush.

Seat belts had to be installed from 1965, compulsory wearing from about 1983. Seatbelts in the back from 1991. The 30 mph speed limit in built-up areas was introduced in 1934, and the 70 mph limit on previously unrestricted roads was 1965 (Wikipedia)

Walking on, it may surprise you to hear that Portrush had 2 castles! – though there isn’t much (anything) to see of them. The photo below – Randal, Earl of Antrim, granted it, ‘Dunferte castle,’ in 1621 to the O’Cahans of Ballyreagh – I think that was those nice O’Cahans who stabbed the last of the MacQuillans at their picnic with Sorley Boy. It was granted ‘in perpetuity’ though it was destroyed by Munro in 1642. It is now just a sticky-up cone of rock, just about enough room to stand up in. I wouldn’t try swinging a cat though, and it might be hard to go to sleep there, and not much shelter nor privacy from paparazzi.

There may be some remaining debris embedded in the roadway wall but otherwise, of “The 1,000 Most Impressive Castles of Ireland,” Ballyreagh is # 999 – with the castle at the harbour (“Site of” on olden maps, that’s all) at # 1,000.

Left/ Sheila: “Hi David I drove out to get this photo of the remains of Ballyreagh Castle I was talking to my son in Canada and he has a very old book I gave him the McDonalds ancient and there is some info about the castle so he is sending it to me may be useful Portrush used to have an E on it so Portrushe hope this helps with your chat.”
Right/ Sheila: “…more hair-raising drama as a big storm in 1960 and caravans were wrecked, blowing like matchboxes and blew over the cliffs.”

Sheila Brown’s family bought the next house, that became Tides. She remembers the big ravine, the Devil’s Bay, and that there were caves which made a big noise with the water going in, and also on round the path a bit there is a swimming pool called the Toad Hole – a great place to swim, and her younger brother Robin fished & swam there.

“David you will be sick of these emails this is the last one to nigh.t The Tides was built in 1938 by Mclaughlins the father built it for his 2 sons William & Samuel and this old photo was the shop before Tides down road across the road from the castle bit grubby my father bought The Tides in 1948 for £1700 a lot then hope this is useful or delate Regards Sheila xx”
“When we arrived in Portrush 1943 during the war mum dad & 5 siblings we lived in where The Tides is now we had a grocery store and caravans so we went to Mark street school” (Photos: courtesy Sheila Brown)

Sheila describes some of the 1960s excitement:

“I well remember the typhoid scare – that put an end to the season that year – all the holiday-makers went home.  The Typhoid was a man who had a shop across the road, he was a carrier of Typhoid. We all got tested but it was not really the dwellings.

August 1959, with 6 cases confirmed, and plans to clear the site ans install proper sanitation

Carrick-dhu & Juniper Hill caravan sites were made after the ‘Shanty town’ was cleared.
Sheila says, It is a good job my dear mum is not here, she objected to the place being called ‘Shanty town’ – the bus conductors used to call out, ‘S Town’ – she was always cross.

Sheila continued, “We did catering – tea & sandwiches on wet days, lemonade & ice cream on sunny days. We also kept boarders in the summer months – dad & boys slept in attic, mum & I and baby sister outside in a wooden shed, all survival plus rationing.

“But business flopped that year – between Typhoid, and another hair-raising drama of the big storm, like a tornado, in 1960 – caravans were wrecked, blowing about like matchboxes and going over the cliffs”, as the photograph above.

1965, After the S town clearance, accomodation at Glenmanus and employment opportunities with this new factory.

A year or two later was a further shock:

“Another big tragedy, a wee child arrived for holiday with family but disappeared and went over the cliff. She was about 2 years old. I can still see the father trying to swim out to her but I am sure the fall killed her.

These news may be long time ago, but still heartfelt. Trish adds: “My dad was on the lifeboat that day, and picked up that little girl. Mum said he couldn’t speak for about a week, it just upset him so much. Apparently she was about the same age as me at the time with the same blond curls. So sad.”

The news was reported in the ‘Tele of 31 July 1961. You know we may be critical of Health and Safety, but accidents like this drove the requirement to improve safety, fences, access.

The front page of the Belfast Telegraph, 31 July 1961, reported on the death of the infant – alongside news that UK PM MacMillan will start negotiations with the European Economic Community – greeted in Parliament with shouts of “Shame!” – and of Mountbatten, Admiral of the Fleet, meeting Haile Selasse in Egypt, and of British soldiers being taken hostage in Iran.

Ballyreagh golf course (Photo: courtesy Me – a favourite photo!)

Just past Tides then is the Ballyreagh golf course – and one of my favourite photos was at the time of the Open. The lads were teeing off at Ballyreagh, silhouetted against the sun low in the sky. I was driving and noticed them, and hand-brake-turned the car and screeched into one of the streets there and ran over to take the pic – wonderful!

Start of Ballyreagh golf course: (left) seeking a Golf Pro – ‘Tele advert, December 1980
(right) Oct 1981, Tourist prize winner (newspapers are shocking though: just below this photo is about the assassination of Sadat in Egypt a few days before, and of Mubarek taking over),

Scrambling round the headland with the wreckage of promenade, ripped up in 1960 storm, to a poignant moment:

Left/ “Grave of unknown sailor” (Photo: courtesy Maureen Kane). I have searched newspapers but find no mention of this. I see of a couple of wartime incidents of bodies washed up – burials arranged; and of spanish sailors from the Girona – buried in churchyards all around. Here, an unknown sailor does not get a proper burial??? I wonder if this is rather a suicide, whose body could not then be buried in a churchyard?
Right/ “New Disney film Artemis Fowl shot along North Coast under direction of NI native Kenneth Brannagh” (Photo: courtesy Jum Martin)

Rinagree, on the coastal path, was the helicopter landing spot for TV actors like Judi Dench and Kenneth Brannagh to go and film Artemis Fowl, at Dunluce Castle and on White Rocks beach.

And we are on the home straight now, looking forward to ice cream, as we walk on through Portstewart golf course and down to the prom.

As a kid, us driving back from shopping in Coleraine through Portstewart for an ice cream. But the promenade was so busy, nowhere to get parked and we are going to drove on home. Me, I took the strumps.
NOOOOO!!!!!!! I WANT AN ICE CREAM !!!!
I was about 8 or something. There wasn’t anywhere to park. So at a traffic hold-up I stormed out of the car and set off to walk home. They parked the car up at the harbour but I was still sulking and walked on past. They parked on at the golf course. I weas ready to get in the car then. And we had ice cream in Morelli’s or somewhere in Portrush.

But finally, an ice cream in Morelli’s, some nice family occasion. I got my nephew to sit as if I was taking a photo of him, but it was really of that celebrity on the table beyond, so that I could say on Facebook, ‘You’ll never guess who I had lunch with today!’ All my FB friends were very envious.

Left, Feb 2012, Having lunch with famous person at Morelli’s Right, Sunset photo, courtesy Maureen Kane

Afterwards, the late evening walk back to Portrush, in those blissful balmy summer evenings where there is a glow in the sky to 11pm or so.

Photo: courtesy Maureen Kane

Well, I hope you enjoyed our little walk. For me, it was such a delight to make contact with Sheila & Trish & Ruth and to work together and find such interesting connections. It may be a little bit of a diaspora but Portrush at heart.

We will hear some more from Ruth and Dhu Varren on another occasion soon, but to close this episode, I quote from her:

“I always knew we were so lucky to live so close to the beach and when I went off to University in Manchester at 18 years old, I couldn’t get to sleep at night at first, not because I was particularly homesick but, as I realised after a while, because I couldn’t hear the sound of the sea as I drifted off to sleep.

“If I have had major decisions to make, or thoughts to think, I still find if I am near the sea, or as a second best a river or lake, I can always think more clearly there.”

Other related blogs –
Dhu Varren – the town between the ports
Portrush castles, see: 1600s – a Century of Trouble
George Brockerton and Ballyreagh: Barry’s and the Wall of Death
Lee family, the photographer of Portrush (3 parts)
Portrush and the sizzling ’70
Portrush, 1960s – the Swinging Sixties!