I’ve always had a strong affection for the very heart of Leeds and first knew it when the buildings were still black with soot and vehicles could go everywhere in what is now a huge pedestrian precinct. I particularly remember shopping here before Christmas in the early seventies and finding it almost impossible to make my way along the pavements, which were packed with shoppers because the roads were likewise thronged with cars. It is much more pleasant now, with space for pedestrians as well as pavement cafés (one in a street completely covered with a glass roof that seals it from the weather and gives it the feel of the various Victorian arcades that lead off Briggate) and talented buskers; the several covered shopping centres (the latest, Trinity Leeds, adjoining Boar Lane) are a magnet to thousands of visitors from across Yorkshire and beyond.
The casual visitor, however, will probably miss the ‘ginnels’ (passageways) and ‘yards’ that preserve the history of Victorian Leeds and that thread their way through the buildings a breath away from the main shopping streets. The entrance to the far-famed ‘City Varieties’ theatre is in one such, though it has been considerably changed and modernised. And in one of these, leading off Briggate and cheek by jowl with the Trinity Centre, is the oldest pub in the city, Whitelocks. I suppose that I, too, should have missed it, but my husband, who seemed as a student to manage to find his way to most of the hostelries in town, took me there many years ago. I went back with him to enjoy lunch there on my return from China.
Here, indeed, is local Leeds. Sitting alongside us were a grandfather (his accent marking him out as a Leeds man) and his two grand-daughters, both of them students, who bought him lunch and beer, put him in the picture about their mother, his daughter, and bid him a merry farewell as they headed off to afternoon lectures; to my left, during the time we were there, a succession of elderly Horsforth (I asked!) couple, a market trader I recognised from many years’ enjoyable shopping in Vicar Lane’s Leeds City Market and a younger man who came in to sup his pint and put the working day aside for a while. The long bar was crowded with suits on lunchbreak and large groups of city workers of one kind or another.
Whitelocks has to be seen and experienced first-hand: it is a jewel of Victorian/Edwardian décor, replete with brass and copper and marble and coloured tile and mirrors and stained glass and ironwork. It gleams with a sociable splendour that makes ‘having a drink’ into an occasion of moment. For the contemporary cognoscenti, the range of real ales is special, the food traditional and beautifully prepared. Here is an inn which cherishes its guests and makes them feel warm inside.
It opened as an inn in 1715, serving local traders and customers in what was then a Briggate market; its original name, The Turk’s Head, lives on as the name of the yard, but the inn was rebuilt and (as its blue plaque confirms) extended to absorb a row of Georgian working men’s dwellings by the first of the Whitelock family, who took over the licence in 1867 and transformed it. Fortunately, it has been preserved for future generations of Leeds folk to enjoy.
My imagination was caught by my first visit there, on a foggy November evening; there may not have been gas lamps, but there was gloom in the ginnel and a warmth of welcome within. The past reached out and drew me in, to think of the divide between the relatively wealthy Victorian and Edwardian customers of ‘Whitelocks First City Luncheon Bar’ and the vagabonds and urchins and footpads outside in the sooty darkness, who no doubt relieved some of them of their wallets and purses. For a crime writer, pubs with character and a powerful history have huge potential. I’m sure that Whitelocks could very easily find its way into a story and may very well already have done.
Hi Christina,What a lovely post, you have triggered memories of late fifties, when I an innocent Methodist girl, was taken to Whitelocks in our lunch break ,by my new Catholic boyfriend. In this den of iniquity, he introduced me to Baby Cham, on other visits, followed it up with the ‘hard stuff’ of Cherry B. He really corrupted me when he asked my mother if he could take me to the Cinema on a Sunday night.!!
That same male, has just enjoyed reading your piece, married 54 years….
I think that that is the most heart-warming comment I’ve ever had on this blog! (Apologies to the many other heart-warmers!) I remember both of those drinks and their adverts! Congratulations on your marital longevity – it’s not far to the big one! And my warmest greetings to that naughty boy who corrupted you all those years ago! 🙂
You put me right in there. I miss real ales. Slipping the boats into Swansea for an illicit evening of fun was a great treat years and years ago. The real ales made it worthwhile.
Luckily we have a great ale revival here in my part of the world. The young brewers go abroad for a decade and come home to make great product. Even passable porters!
I love the setting you’ve created in this essay. It put me right inside more with the people than the fixtures. I’ll remember that. Made it special.
Glad for a good lunch. Always a treat.
Hello, Jack. Real ales have been growing and growing in popularity here, too. We have many small breweries which make excellent ales. Thank you, as always, for your compliments and for your trademark ‘voice’, which I love to hear here! 😉 I very much enjoy observing and listening to the people around me, wherever I might be. Trains and bars are ripe for eavesdropping pleasures. 🙂
Christina, this is a lovely post. I could almost hear the grand daughters filling grandpa in about his daughter and the locals with their tales. A lovely place to pass the time of day. Those tiles are just beautiful too aren’t they? I’ve never been to Leeds, as I think I’ve told you, but I would love to visit!
Thank you, Valerie. There are lots of fascinating places in and around Leeds, some of them, like Whitelocks, tucked away in corners where the past very quickly springs out. The arcades are easier to find, but lots of people just look in the shop windows and miss what’s up above their heads – more hidden gems.