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Tales from the dark side 
THE BEDFORD STREET MARINER
By Sam King
In the mid-fifties I was employed by the company of John Doyle Demolition as a jobber. My principle work was in bricking up windows and doors at ground level as houses became vacant. When a full block of houses was bricked up the demolition gang would be sent in to pull the whole block down. It was in one such house, in Bedford St. North, Liverpool , that the event occurred.
In the years up to World War II, the residents of these houses were mainly ship-owners, merchants, consultants, etc. They were very imposing dwellings with bells on the wall to summon servants from the basement.
Whilst I was bricking up the front of one such house a van drew up to the front and an Indian family got out and approached me. The lady wore a bright sari and her husband was smartly dressed. They had a son about 13 and a daughter aged about 10 years. The male told me they had lived in the middle floor suite of five rooms and had left 2 or 3 weeks earlier to live in Mossley Hill. He told me that 6 months earlier he had had a tiled grate fitted to a rear room and asked me if it was still there. I told him it was, because I had admired it myself. In those days they were pricey – a small status symbol.
He told me if I would get it for him he would come back in a couple of hours and pay me £2; a few days wages in those days. My labourer, a Tommy James, was as delighted as I was, so knowing tiled grates were fastened by a metal clip either side, I started to free the clips after removing the plaster covering. At the time, I was kneeling down facing the grate and freeing the clips. Tommy, who was waiting behind me, suddenly took hold of both my shoulders, shaking me in a state of panic. He was staring at the only door into the room with an incredulous look on his face. His first words were, ‘Who was that?’
After calming him down a little he told me a man in seafaring garb had passed the door and gone into the rear bedroom. I went out of the room and found the bedroom door shut, so I opened it and looked in. The room was full of rubble and dust but there was no-one there. I asked Tommy if he was sure he had seen the man. He assured me he had, and explained that he was dressed in sowester hat, cape and white Wellingtons. At that time the most common matches sold were called Pilot matches and the figure on the matchbox, according to Tommy, was identical to the one he’d seen. It took me quite a while to bring Tommy round to help me remove the grate and get it downstairs to the front door, as the family was expected to return quite soon.
Sure enough, the family arrived and asked me if the tiled grate was still in good order. I asked them to come in and see it. Making small talk with them I mentioned Tommy’s apparition, upon which the Indian lady turned and ran down the steps, followed by her children. In the fading light outside she looked at Tommy who had followed her down the steps, followed by her husband and me, and described the very figure Tommy had seen, from his sowester to his cape and Wellingtons.
She told me of her experience nine months earlier. Her friend, who lived next door, used to knock on her first floor front window to catch her attention.
The houses shared a common balcony at first floor level, so her friend from next door would come onto the balcony, and tap on her window – this saved going downstairs, out of the front door and then re-entering and climbing the stairs again.
She said she and her husband were settling down for the night in the bedroom Tommy had seen the figure go into, when she heard a tapping on her front window. She entered the front room, turning on the light. Withdrawing the curtains, she let out a scream. Instead of her friend she saw the apparition of a seaman, staring straight at her. Her husband rushed in to calm her; she had also awoken the children. It seemed evident to me that both Tommy and this lady had seen the same figure.
I can only add that I can still feel Tommy’s hand gripping my shoulders in what I can only describe as a state of terror. He refused to work with me after that, preferring to work with the demolition lads. I think he found safety in numbers as a gang was about six to a team. Needless to say, we waved goodbye to the £2! The family left quickly, leaving the tiled grate behind …
In the Shadows of the Palace
The Birkdale Palace Hotel
By Eileen Shaw
The Birkdale Palace Hotel, close to Southport, Merseyside, first opened in 1866. The hotel has long since been associated with paranormal activity. Local folklore included tales of its architect, upon discovering that the building had been built ‘back to front’, committing suicide by jumping from the roof of the hotel. Strange occurrences in the hotel were reputed to be the activities of his ghost.
Towering on the Birkdale seafront the hotel occupied a 20-acre site at the end of Weld Road. The hotel was a magnificent building; 200 feet long with 75 bedrooms and large reception areas used for banquets and concerts. It had developed by the Southport Hotel Company and funded mainly by Manchester merchants at a cost of £60,000.
In spite of its grandeur the hotel was relatively isolated. Neither the main road from Southport at Rotten Row, nor the Southport tramline reached it, both having had applications for extensions refused by Birkdale Council. It struggled financially and finally went into liquidation.
In 1881 the Palace Hotel underwent extensive renovation and was relaunched as a hydro hotel, offering hydropathic health treatments. A new wing was added, reducing the grounds from 200 acres to 5 acres. Upon completion it had 220 centrally-heated bedrooms and over 60 members of staff. The bathrooms were equipped with needle and shower sprays, modern suites and hot and cold water. A pipe drew in salt water from the sea and an elevator was installed to all floors. Electric lighting was produced by a steam-driven generator.
Tennis-courts and pavilions, croquet, bowling, archery, walks, horse-riding, billiards and dancing - in the finest and largest hotel ballroom on the coast - ensured that the Palace appealed to the rich and famous. There was mid-week dancing, Saturday dinner-dances and, on Sundays, orchestral teas and evening concerts.
With the opening of the Birkdale Smedley Hydropathic Hotel in 1877, Birkdale had been gaining a reputation as a health resort and the appeal of the Palace Hotel increased, attracting a very wealthy clientele to the area.
In 1884 the Cheshire Lines Railway opened, linking Aintree to Southport along a scenic coastal route – now the Coast Road. The main commercial reasons for constructing the railway were to provide stations for the Palace Hotel in Birkdale and the Winter Gardens in Southport. Birkdale Palace Station opened in 1885.
In 1919 the hotel introduced flights between the local aviation ground and Blackpool, and in 1939 the Palace was attracting stars like Peter Sellers, Frank Sinatra and Clark Gable; the extensive garages housing the guests’ Bentleys, Daimlers and Rolls.
Between 1942 and 1945 the Palace was taken over by the American Red Cross and used as a rest home for the US Army airmen, taking entire bomber crews. During this period it was one of the largest rehabilitation centres in the country for US Air-Force personnel, with more than 15,000 recuperating there.
In 1952 the hotel lost its station when the Cheshire Lines Railway closed. This is likely to have impacted seriously on the Palace which was again struggling to survive. However, every top-class football-team in the Northwest trained in the hotel grounds, and the Hungarian World Cup Football Team stayed there.
The ballroom was used regularly into the 1960s; but in 1967 the final owners, Heddon Hotels, went into liquidation. In February of that year there were only two guests – an elderly permanent resident, and the company controller’s wife.
During the course of this investigation I was contacted by a Peter Green, now living in Leeds, who worked at the Palace Hotel in the 60s and was asked to stay on as a caretaker during its demolition. He has many memories of the hotel, not least being the time he met George Best. However, during the time of the demolition Peter recalls the contents of the hotel being sold off quickly and cheaply in casual on-site auctions.
Peter remained in the hotel during the first few months after the hotel closed and lived there alone until the demolition men moved in. One of his tasks was to reset the boiler which was in the boiler house behind the back door of what is now the Fisherman’s Rest Public House. This had to be reset in the middle of the night at least twice a week and he recalls going along the dark corridors, lit only by the lamp he was carrying. He described this as ‘a bit daunting’ but states that he didn’t ever see or hear anything down there; he just felt uncomfortable.
Just after its closure the hotel was used to make Boris Karloff’s last film, The Sorcerer.
During 1968/9 the British producer, Tony Tenser, used the hotel as a film production base for Tigon, a specialist in low-budget exploitation films such as The Haunted House of Horror, starring Frankie Avalon and Jill Haworth.
What’s Good for the Goose, starring Norman Wisdom and Sally Geeson, was filmed using the hotel cellars and public areas, and The Dark, starring Dennis Price, was also filmed there.
It is recorded that Tony Tenser suggested to Southport Council that they jointly buy the empty hotel and operate it as a film production centre, but the council turned down the idea on the grounds that they did not enter into commercial partnerships.
Demolition started a few weeks later in 1969 amidst much local publicity taking six months to complete.
Built to stand for many hundreds of years, the Palace was to be brought to the ground just 100 years after its completion. Initially, publicity stemmed from the untimely demise of this proud building, but soon it was to attract international attention for more unusual reasons . . .
The Haunted Lift
The story of the haunted lift at the Palace Hotel was first reported in the Southport Visitor on 6th May, 1969, when the demolition workers reported the lift moving on its own.
The workmen had moved into the hotel where they were using the accommodation in one part of the hotel while they carried out work at the other end of the building.
Jos Smith of P & J Smith Brothers, Rochdale, who was in charge of the 12-man demolition team, is reported as having said, ‘things began to happen soon after we started the job.’ There were reports of voices coming from empty rooms and from the corridor on the second floor. It was reported also that the four-ton lift, built like a Dreadnought, was moving between floors on its own, although it was a manually-operated lift.
In desperation the men removed the emergency hand-winding gear, but still it moved. Workman Fred Wooley is reported to have said that as nine workers entered the foyer the lift doors slammed shut and it shot up to the second floor.
About mid-April Jos ordered all the power to the building and to the lift to be cut off, but the lift continued to move from floor to floor with its gates opening and closing and its indicator lights flashing.
An electricity board spokesman was quoted as confirming that the building was isolated and not an amp was getting through.
The workmen reported hearing voices arguing, stiletto heels on empty corridors and claimed to have found themselves locked in their rooms on occasions.
In May 1969 Jos Smith told the Daily Post:
‘My men are scared out of their wits. We cannot explain what’s going on. Now that the power is cut off, the only way to move the lift is by winding it from the top, but on several occasions that the men have seen the lift move, no-one has been near the handle.’
After about a month the men all decided to move out of the hotel into lodgings and to work only in daylight.
Television crews, journalists and ghost-hunters arrived in large numbers to report on the phenomena. BBC Television’s 24 Hours programme devoted time to it. The Paralab-directory for 1969 had a summary of the case and referred to an independent witness, a Mrs. K. Templeton, who had gone into the hotel looking for antique mirrors. She is reported to have said that while she was talking to the workmen, the lift had suddenly begun to go up. There was no sound coming from it and she described it as eerie. She and two of the workmen ran up to the winding room, but the lift brake was still on.
To avoid any further movement of the lift the two men cut the lift cable, but the lift-car didn’t move. It was only after the lift shafts had been cut and considerable force had been used with heavy hammers that the lift-car crashed to the basement, burying itself several feet into the ground.
Enquiries have revealed that the reason for the lift-car being difficult to move is that the car wedges would have ejected, holding it in place when the workmen cut the cable. However, when all power to the hotel, including the lift, was disconnected, the electromagnetic brake should have prevented the lift from moving between floors. No explanation has therefore been found for the moving lift phenomenon.
During the course of my enquiries I have been contacted by several people who have an interest, personal experiences and/or memories of this hotel. Amongst them are Pauline Marshall and Joan Pettitt.
In the 1950s Pauline worked as a junior switchboard operator in the Reception area of the Palace Hotel. She has confirmed that during the time she worked there she heard stories of strange (paranormal?) activity and recalls that when she was on the late shift which ended at midnight, she never used the lift and never walked around the hotel on her own, always feeling nervous but for reasons that she can’t explain.
Joan Pettitt became involved in the investigations in the hotel in 1969 following publicity about the moving lift. She recalls having been contacted by Lime Grove Studios and assigned the task of covering the story. She had been able to speak to lift experts who had come over from Holland to inspect the lift. Joan states that the lift always stopped at the third floor. She observed the inspectors taping the lift to measure movement and confirms that the lift did, indeed, move without any apparent form of energy.
Joan interviewed the demolition workers at the Fisherman’s Rest Public House and they advised her that they were given an allowance for accommodation while they were working in Birkdale but had been able to take advantage of the multitude of fully furnished but vacant rooms in the hotel in order to avoid spending the allowance on boarding fees.
She recalled them telling her that on one occasion, in the middle of the night, they had heard an altercation between a man and a woman; the voices appearing to be coming from the top floor. As they came out of their rooms to establish the source of the disturbance, they found that the voices were suddenly no longer coming from the top floor, but seemed to be coming from the reception area. As the staircase was covered in rubble and the handrail had already been removed, and also the lift was without power, they could think of no way in which anyone could have travelled from the top floor to the ground floor that quickly. They established, however, that there was no-one other than themselves in the building.
For this, and other reasons which had totally ‘spooked’ the demolition workers, they quickly decided to move back into ‘digs’ even though, financially, they would make a loss.
Around this time many people had been arriving at the hotel; journalists, paranormal researchers, photographers – even police officers; and it was suggested that someone should walk round the building with a dog to see if the dog reacted in any way. Joan ‘borrowed’ a small dog, a healer, from a Richard Smith who lived in the area and Philip Tidlam, leading the BBC crew, walked round the hotel with the dog. Joan was present during this time. She confirmed that when the dog was brought to the lift shaft it refused to walk past it; its fur was standing up on end and its paws were sliding on the rubble as it resisted moving forwards.
Tony Riding, magician and member of the Magic Circle had joined journalists and investigators in 1969 and spent the night at the hotel investigating reports of paranormal activity. Sadly, Tony is now deceased, but his widow kindly allowed me see a scrapbook kept by her former husband, which included cuttings from the Southport Visitor, dated 10th May, 1969.
Could there have been any truth in the rumours that the architect was haunting the Palace Hotel?
Travis & Mangnall, Architects
The company, Travis and Mangnall, Architects of Manchester, was formed by Henry Travis and William Mangnall in about 1846. They were based at 3 Norfolk Street in Manchester according to the Slater's Directories 1848 & 1855.
The company was responsible for many well known and impressive buildings including:-
St. Kentigern, Aspatria, Cumberland (1846-1848) rebuilding the church
83 Princess Street, corner of George Street, (1847-48) Grade II Listed
Christ Church, Penrith, Cumberland (1847-1851) - new church
Oldham Workhouse, Rochdale Road, Oldham (1848-1851) built at a cost of £13,305. The workhouse eventually became part of the Oldham Hospital when it was modernised early in the 20th century.
St. Margaret, Holyrood, Lancashire (1848-1854) - new church opened 1851
Wigan Union Workhouse (1855-7)
Salford Museum and Art Gallery, Peel Park, The Crescent, Salford. This is a renaissance style museum, library and art gallery built in 1852.
Peel Park is an early public park opened and named after Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel. The building housed the first unconditionally free library in Britain and the museum was one of the earliest in the country.
St. Mary, Crumpsall, Manchester, (1858-1859) - new church
S & J Watts Warehouse (now the Britannia Hotel), Portland Street, Manchester (1851-6). This became known as the first 'cash 'n carry' warehouse and had a completely different architectural design for each of its six floors. A grade II listed building.
Did the architect commit suicide?
William Mangnall was born around 1822. He died of consumption on the 29th May 1868 aged 46 at Lord Street in Southport in the presence of his son William. This was two years after the Palace Hotel opened.
William became an architect like his father and, on his father's death, took over his position in the company.
John Littlewood was articled to Travis & Mangnall in 1850 and was joined by his brother William Henry Littlewood in 1855. The Littlewood brothers were sons of architect Joshua Littlewood (1794-1866) of Holmfirth near Huddersfield.
Within a few years Travis retired and John Littlewood became Mangnall’s partner.
In 1869 the firm became known as Mangnall & Littlewoods.
William Mangnall junior died aged 67 and was buried in Audlem Cemetery on the 21st October 1917.
Upon the death of William Mangnall, junior, William Henry Littlewood (1839-1921) became a partner, but the name Mangnall & Littlewoods continued to be used by the firm.
The company’s first experience of seaside work was in Southport with the Victoria Hotel, built in 1876 and the Palace Hotel, built in 1880. By the mid 1890s the practice was undertaking a substantial number of commissions throughout Lancashire and the Isle of Man, and in 1895 won a competition to enlarge Blackpool Winter Gardens which they accomplished on a grand scale. As a result of their success they went on to extend Morecambe Winter Gardens which they did in the form of the Victoria Pavilion in 1897.
They designed the Morecambe Hotel Metropole (1897) and went on to build Bridlington New Spa Theatre (1899) and the Colwyn Bay Pier & Pavilion (1900) before the death of John Littlewood in 1901.
William Henry Littlewood carried on alone, still as Mangnall & Littlewoods, until his retirement around 1910.
We now know that William Mangnall, senior, died of consumption in 1868 and that his son, William, lived until 1917, dying at the age of 67.
Mr. Travis retired around 1855 and the Littlewood brothers continued working for some considerable time, going on to build more impressive buildings.
Was the hotel built back to front?
Enquiries made in an attempt to view plans of the Palace Hotel in order to ascertain whether in fact it had been built back-to-front have not been fruitful; however, it could be considered that the hotel was built facing inland to protect the reception area from full exposure to the coastal elements.
That this would have been a major consideration is supported by the report that the extensive renovations in 1881 included the construction of a high embankment on the seafront to keep the facilities sheltered from prevailing winds; the structure being topped with a promenade to overlook the shore.
There can be no doubt that the architects, Mangnall & Travis were hugely successful both prior to and following the construction of the Palace Hotel, and it would appear very unlikely that such a blunder would have been made.
Contrary to local folklore, therefore, it can be seen that the architect did not commit suicide and that the hotel is unlikely to have been built facing inland by accident.
If the hotel wasn’t built back-to-front and the architect didn’t commit suicide, it is necessary to start at the beginning of the story to look at events that could possibly explain seemingly paranormal activity in the Palace Hotel.
BACK TO THE BEGINNING
On the night of 9th December 1886 the wind would have been howling round the Palace Hotel as a tremendous storm raged on its
doorstep. Hale and sleet added to the atrocious conditions.
A German barque, the Mexico, sailing from Liverpool to Guayaquil, South America, ran aground on the Horse Bank just off the Southport shoreline, a treacherous part of the coast.
Lifeboats from Southport, Lytham and St. Anne’s were launched when distress rockets, fired from the Mexico, were seen.
At 10.20 p.m. in Southport, the lifeboat, Eliza Fernley, on its horse-drawn carriage, was transported nearly 4 miles along the sands. A full tide and crash breakers made it difficult to launch the boat but by about 11 pm. this had been achieved.
The Laura Janet lifeboat from St. Anne’s was launched at 10.25 p.m.
The Charles Biggs lifeboat from Lytham, with a crew of 14, was launched at around 10.05 p.m. and managed to reach the barque and rescue the 12-man crew, two of whom were injured.
Four of the lifeboat’s oars were broken and she was full of water, but she sailed into Lytham to a tumultuous welcome.
Two and a half hours after the Eliza Fernley lifeboat had been launched, a large crowd on the shore at Southport saw a lifeboat hoist a mast and then a sail and assumed it was the Eliza Fernley returning.
They ran some four miles back to the boat-house only to learn that the lifeboat had passed the Southport Pier at great speed. It was then realised that this must have been the Lytham lifeboat. There was no sign of the Eliza Fernley or her crew. Enquiries were made at Holden’s Dining and Refreshment Rooms on Coronation Walk where the rescued crew would have been taken for dry clothing and hot food, but there was no news there.
A tremendous sea had capsized the Eliza Fernley at about 12.40 a.m. on 10th December, just as John Jackson, having reached the Mexico, was letting go of the anchor.
By 2 a.m. rumours were spreading that the Eliza Fernley had capsized; and by 3.30 a.m. Henry Robinson, one of the two survivors, was found on the shore and was able to confirm everyone’s worst fears.
Miraculously, he made a rapid recovery and later returned to the shore to search for survivors, including his two younger brothers.
Shortly after this, his youngest brother, John Robinson, aged 18, was found alive and carried to the sand hills where a coat was wrapped around him.
He died there on the sands a short time later.
At 3 a.m. the Eliza Fernley was found on the shore. She had not righted herself and three bodies were found inside her.
By 4 a.m. more bodies were washed up, including the body of Richard Robinson, aged 25, John’s second brother.
At 4.15 a.m. John Ball was found and rushed by taxi to the Infirmary, but he died later that day.
Peter Jackson was found alive and attempts were made for two hours to save him.
He died at 4.45 a.m.
From 11 a.m. onwards, bodies of the St. Anne’s crew were found in the tide. Their lifeboat, the Laura Janet was located at 11.15 a.m., upturned, on a sandbank, and the bodies of Oliver Hodson, Richard Fisher and William Johnson were found entangled in the lines.
Of the 16-man crew of the Southport lifeboat, the Eliza Fernley, 14 lost their lives.
Of the 13-man crew of the St. Anne’s lifeboat, the Laura Janet, there were no survivors and nothing is known of their experiences following the launch.
It is surmised that the Laura Janet capsized whilst rounding Spencer’s Brow under sail and failed to right herself. This may have occurred around 2.30 a.m., the time at which the watch of one of her crew had stopped. This was, and still is, the greatest lifeboat disaster of all time.