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High anxiety

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'Top People' is one of those chirpy Carry On-era Rank Look at Life documentaries made for the cinema. This one is all about the rebuilding of the City of London, 1960. It centres around Great Arthur House, the tower block at the heart of the Golden Lane estate which sits just beyond the City's boundary. It was this massive and successful design job that ensured that architects Chamberlin, Powell and Bon would get to create the City's largest housing project next door, the Barbican, a model of which can be seen in the film, as well as the blitzed land on which it was to be built.

The film gets its thrills not from the architecture, but from the daredevil feats carried out every day by its builders. Shots of the scaffolder's feet standing on the end of a scaffold pole hundreds of feet above the ground, mixed with shots of him blithely standing there with no safety harness of any sort, are guaranteed to make my feet cringe even now. Similarly the window cleaner shinning off a balcony on a rope and clambering over to a balcony some feet away makes me feel a bit ill.



The Barbican site was hit hard by industrial action throughout the sixties.  The received view of the British worker, even then, was of a tea and beer-loving skiver, who was only too happy to picket if it didn't mean working. This film does a surprisingly good job of shocking us into remembering how tough and basic the conditions were for builders on these massive projects, and how little interest there was in safety. It's a reminder of how the modern world was build in an always shockingly old fashioned way.

Despite the cheesy window cleaner cuppa set up at the top of Great Arthur House this is a pretty tame affair by Look At Life standards: no leering Sid James narrating, for example, or cutaways to 'pretty girls'. So it feels a little more like a straight piece of social history and less like a cheap shot at the subject. Well worth a watch.

Prefabs sprout

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Here's a beautifully shot sequence of silent colour footage shot around London in 1945–6. The cameraman has recorded the building of some of the first Orlit prefab houses. It's unusual for many reasons, not least because Orlit houses were built mostly in Scotland. Although prefabricated, they were not temporary houses, like the single storey Uni Seco prefabs in the Excalibur Estate in Catford. These were made from precast reinforced concrete and built to last – although in recent years structural defects have been found in them.



The film is a wonderful piece of history, and well worth a watch.


Flight from Utopia

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Flight from Utopia is a BBC2 documentary from 1984, written and presented by Patrick Nuttgens, one of Robert Matthews' prodigies. He followed his teacher by starting out as one of the cheerleaders of modern architecture and by the 70s had become more interested in heritage and preservation. This 2 part documentary is a kind of rise and fall of the postwar planners, focussing on a few Northern towns: Hull, Sheffield, York, Bradford and Leeds.

The last five minutes of part 1 focusses on the building of Park Hill, part of which in a renovated form lost out in the Stirling Prize yesterday, and includes Sheffield masterplanner Lewis Wolmersley's now famous interview where he described the opportunities that met him in the early fifties when he arrived for his job interview. Keith Massey's camerawork is quite brilliant, especially in the Park Hill sequence, but it's quite amazing to see so many tower blocks and postwar buildings in the mid-eighties, before so many were demolished, re-made or remodeled.

As a documentary, its tone of voice and sweep echoes that of Lionel Esher's 1981 book A Broken Wave: a combination of elegy, personal reminiscence and historical document. The second part is filled with 'gloom and disaster' telling the tale of damp, miserable Hunslett Grange in Leeds among many other mistakes. The show's motto is undoubtedly that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And those roads would be the ring roads that made Leeds the motorway city of the seventies.

There's some sad clips of Ian Nairn pulling apart Bradford's sorry town centre, one of many cities, in Nuttgens' words, ripped apart by insurance companies to keep us safe in our retirement, companies such as Norwich Union. The documentary ends up as a Gavin Stamp-style reminisce of the demolition of great Victorian buildings in the sixties.

The documentary ends with clips of Ronan Point collapsing, and John Poulson going to court for corruption, followed by the 'years of repentance' - with demolition of some of the new tower blocks. Although the documentary is angry, partial and sad, it's an incredible thing, a scene-setter for decades of hating on postwar planning, only recently being appreciated again in the form of a newly listed Preston Bus Station here or a Sirling shortlisted Park Hill there.


Ten British buildings worthy of Thunderbirds

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Gerry and Sylvia Anderson always showed a keen eye for exciting modern architecture in their many hit 1960s TV series. Thunderbirds featuredTracy Island, the home so cool that decades later kids were still going nuts for models of it on Blue Peter. But Britain has a good number of modern buildings every bit as exciting and outrageous as their cardboard counterparts. Here's ten of them.





























1. Forton Services


Pennine Tower at Lancaster services on the M6, designed by T. P. Bennett and Son, opened 1966. The super-cool hexagonal tower was once a restaurant but is now for the most part abandoned.



























2. British Gas Engineering Research Station
British Gas Engineering Research Station (1967), Killingworth - See more at: http://www.odechair.com/ode/ode/blog_files/Ryder_and_Yates_Classic_Images.html#sthash.Kx4M3hmU.dpuf
British Gas Engineering Research Station (1967), Killingworth - See more at: http://www.odechair.com/ode/ode/blog_files/Ryder_and_Yates_Classic_Images.html#sthash.Kx4M3hmU.dpuf
British Gas Engineering Research Station (1967), Killingworth - See more at: http://www.odechair.com/ode/ode/blog_files/Ryder_and_Yates_Classic_Images.html#sthash.Kx4M3hmU.dpuf

Killingworth, opened 1967, designed by Ryder and Yates, a vast industrial building that seems to be trumpeting to the stars.






3. Friar's Square Wimpy

Part of Aylesbury's now demolished Friar's Square shopping centre, designed by Bernard Engle, 1962, this would be considered 'googie' architecture if it were American - a style of kitsch modernism epitomised by atomic age roadside diners and motels.







4. Radio City Tower

Built as a ventilation chimney for St. John's Market, Liverpool, designed by Weightman & Bullen and opened in 1969, St. John's Beacon (as it was) once contained a revolving restaurant but is now home to Radio City radio station, among others.






5. Tolworth Tower

Designed by George Marsh at Richard Seifert for developer Harry Hyams, this 1963 rocket-trail whoosh of a skyscraper towers over Kingston-Upon-Thames.






6. Welbeck Street Car Park

Right in the centre of London sits this trinket box turned space freighter of a car park, designed for Debenhams on Oxford Street in 1971 by Michael R. Blampied & Partners.






7. Usk Street flats

Denys Lasdun's 1954 flats in Usk Street, Bethnal Green, part of his 'cluster block' experiment, have something of the limbs of an orbiting space station about them.







8. Engineering Building, Leicester University

Stirling and Gowan's audacious 1963 building for Leicester University is part rocket launcher, part lunar module.






9. Space House

Another Marsh/Seifert/Hyams job, Space House on Kingsway in London was opened in 1966, a great circular drum of a building, ready to be hauled to the stars beneath Thunderbird 2.




10. The Post Office Tower

The ultimate in British sci-fi architecture, star of Doctor Who and Dan Dare. Eric Bedford from the Ministry of Works designed this beauty in the early 60s, its entire function to be tall enough to beam TV signal microwaves over the heads of other buildings and hills to relay stations round the country. It's not so much a Thunderbirds building, more a rocket ship in its own right.



Ten Monuments from the Space Age in Croydon

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Croydon gets it in the neck a fair bit. Soulless, drab, 'New York built in Poland', a concrete jungle. The Late Show in 1993 characterised it, in a rare moment of analysis from any media on the town, as an English Alphaville: comparing it to Godard's 1965 dystopian sci-fi masterpiece. And there are many elements of the town centre that deserve comparing to science fiction. There are 45 office blocks in the town centre, mostly built in the decade leading up to 1974. Most of these blocks stand on pilotis, Le Corbusier's word for concrete stilts, which allow people to walk beneath the buildings. In theory this makes them generous, makes them permeable. In reality, the vast tarmac car parks block access to them during the week when busy, and at the weekend when empty form a slightly uncanny zone around East Croydon, where you feel like your walking beneath the instep of giants. However, here I've chosen my ten favourite postwar Croydon buildings, those that most represent my home town. They also all reflect the space age in which they were built, and go some way to explaining my lifelong obsession with visions of the future from the past.

It's probably also briefly worth mentioning the less pleasant side of all this rebuilding: Croydon is a town all about money. These buildings were put up to capitalise on the 'Brown Ban'  when Labour's deputy leader decreed that no high rise office space could be built in central London, and so Croydon, for a while, became a Docklands for the era of the trim phone and the Austin Maxi. But all of this Tory effort to make money out of every square footage of the town remains, currently in the ugly form of selling the library service off to construction firm John Laing, which sounds absurd and outrageous enough, without the fact that a couple of months in Laing have flogged off the libraries to a facilities management company in Wolverhampton. 

All of this building is impressive, but don't for a moment imagine that Croydon's town fathers give a flying fuck about it. Which means that we have to. Let's not give in to their cynicism.

 1. Lunar and Apollo House

Like most of the office blocks in Croydon, these adjacent towers were built on land purchased by a private developer from a private tenant – in this case reclusive multi-millionaire Harry Hyams, who bought the land from Croydon High School for Girls, who took the money and ran to the suburbs. The names Lunar and Apollo couldn't place it any more in time: they were completed in 1970, the most famous buildings designed by Denis Crump and Partners, a practice not all all renowned for their 1st Mortlake Sea Scouts Headquarters. Most days there are queues of people waiting to see immigration staff as they belong to the Home Office.


 2. Corinthian House

Here's a lovely Richard Seifert building, from the team who gave us Alpha Tower and the NatWest Tower. Corinthian House is a bit tucked away, overlooking a rather scrubby roundabout on Lansdowne Road. Seifert often worked with Harry Hyams, but Croydon was an exception. Its glass faces are beveled a little like those on Millbank Tower, and the pilotis are classic Seifert, jazzily angled and covered in mosaic tiles, like those on Centre Point or Space House. The elongated entrance canopy (captured beautifully here by Ian Steel) is the cutest of all details on this little gem of a building.



 3. Leon House

I have two favourites among these buildings: this one and the next. Leon House is an extraordinary staggered double tower, marooned in South Croydon away from the swagger of its contemporaries, cut off by the Croydon flyover. It's the most pure Le Corbusier-style block in the town, built in austere grey concrete with a kind of elegance that few of the other structures can match, and would look at home in most European cities or the US, the kind of place Nixon would order to burgle. It was finished in 1969, a year before the vastly inferior Lunar and Apollo Houses, and designed by the firm of Tribich, Liefer & Starkin.

4. The NLA Tower

The Noble Lowndes Tower, Threepenny Bit or fifty pence building is the most recognisable landmark in the town. Partly because it towers over busy East Croydon Station, and so commuters travelling between London, Gatwick and Brighton get an eyeful of its offset octagonal floors and white mini-mosaic tiling, calling cards of Richard Seifert at his best. It's built on a roundabout, like Centre Point, and has a ramp that disappears into an underground car park beneath. It was finished in 1970, but the roundabout almost didn't make it, as that was planned to go though East Bridge House, whose tenant couldn't be persuaded to leave until three years later.

5. Whitgift Centre

Croydon's shopping centre, with its five tower blocks, was built on the site of a school, like Lunar and Apollo House. Built by shopping centre experts Ravenseft, its claim to fame was starring in the original title sequence to Terry and June. These incredible photos are from 1971 and were taken by Ian Steel. My mum used a wheelchair so we always used the circular ramps – or whirlarounds, as we called them. My first job was, I think, just to the left of the second photo, in Sherratt and Hughes bookshop, now Waterstones.

6. Nestlé House

St George's House was the tower block famously built twice the height of Croydon's previous tallest building, Norfolk House, on the whim of Croydon's Borough Engineer, Allan Holt. It was soon occupied by Nestlé, who even branded the town at East Croydon, whose railway signs for years read 'home of Nestlé. St George's House was built at the end of a covered mall, St George's Walk, a place that lost out almost immediately when the Whitgift Centre was built, because of its unfortunate wind-tunnel design. The tower and mall were designed by Ronald Ward and Partners, most famous for their Thameside landmark, Millbank Tower. Nestlé have moved out, but their famous nest still towers over the town, cast in concrete 23 storeys up.


7. Suffolk House

Suffolk House was one of the first postwar buildings completed in the redeveloped town centre of Croydon. The mustard-coloured panels on this modest 3-storey office building place it in time quite as distinctly as the steel-framed curtain wall design. Here was late-fiftes architecture at its most polite. A noughties plan to replace it with a 40-storey glass-clad skyscraper came to nothing.  I've always rather liked little Suffolk House, a building type more familiar to other less aggressively developed towns.

8. Fairfield Halls

There's no mistaking the resemblance between Fairfield Halls and the Festival Hall (and acoustician Hope Bagenal worked on both), except perhaps that these days while the South Bank has been polished and pimped to within an inch of its life, the Croydon version is looks more like a bingo hall by the day. Still, I saw some of the best things there, and I'm sure it's still managing that balancing act and inspiring and entertaining kids and families with the odd gem hidden among the rubbish.

9. Tabener House

The council offices moved out of the Victorian Town Hall building next door to this gigantic tower block, Tabener House, in 1967. Allan Holt had a hand in the design, which was chiefly handled by architect H. Thornley. It's undoubtedly one of my least favourite towers in the town, but the christmas tree created initially by leaving a triangle of lights on at nigt, and more recently through blue lights bought to decorate the building, is kinda sweet. Also, there's a story about my dad, a council caretaker, stumbling into a christmas party in drag, having accidentally improvised a costume from one of the other guests's clothes, that makes me laugh every time I see the big old tower.

10. Amp House

Here's one of my favourite buildings in the town, chiefly because of the amazing atomic-age relief above the entrance, and the concrete chevron panels surrounding it. Finished in 1968, the Amp House family group is the nearest the town centre comes to the kind of generous public art that new town dwellers are so familiar with.

Somewhere Decent to Live

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Here's a brilliant documentary made for the GLC in 1967. It's about housing in London, and captures a vanishing world. This is the year before the Ronan Point collapsed, when the high rise flat boom was at its most intense. It's when the Westway was being built and secret plans were underway to build a series or urban motorways in London. It's also a period just before gentrification began, when mortgages were almost impossible to obtain, when council housing was king. And it's a time just before the shift to public consultation, which when combined with the recession of early 70s did for most of the big planned redevelopment schemes.



What's so good about the documentary is that despite its objective, to celebrate redevelopment and rehousing, it doesn't entirely exclude voices against the narrative. There's the old couple in their terraced house, for example, and the family stuck in the high rise whose kids can't play outside.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of it is comparing it to our situation in London today, where once again there's a housing crisis, this time exacerbated by the obscene over-pricing of land and homes, and where there are no big schemes to alleviate the problem. Sure, this film might have been made moments before a series of crises came along to utterly change the postwar building boom and optimism of planners, but it shows people trying to solve problems rather than accept them. That optimism has long since departed the local government scene.

Concretopia hits the shops

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Concretopia: A Journey Around the Rebuilding of Postwar Britain has hit the shops, in hardback and ebook. You can read a sample chapter here.

It's really quite a peculiar feeling now that it's out and people are reading it and passing comment. I'm sure if I started the book now, with all that I now know, it would be an entirely different thing, but the book grew up alongside the journeys and conversations I had with people along the way, and so it is what it is. It's had some really nice reviews so far:

'A brilliant book: a vital vade mecum for anyone (not just students of architecture and town planning) interested in Britain's 20th-century history'
James Hamilton-Paterson, author of EMPIRE OF THE CLOUDS

'A powerful and personal history of postwar Britain. Grindrod shows how pre-fab housing, masterplans, and tower blocks are as much part of our national story as Tudorbethan suburbs and floral clocks. It's like eavesdropping into a conversation between John Betjeman, J.G. Ballard and Jonathan Meades.' 
LEO HOLLIS, author of CITIES ARE GOOD FOR YOU

 'Fascinating . . . it's all here, from the Poulson scandal to abandoned ring-roads and vanishing industry . . . A great insight into the way things turned out the way they did.'
WALLPAPER MAGAZINE


'Never has a tour from Croydon and back again been so fascinating. John Grindrod's witty and informative tour of Britain is a total treat, and will win new converts to stare in awe (or at least enlightened comprehension) at Crap towns and Boring Postcards.'
CATHERINE CROFT, Director, Twentieth Century Society

'With a cast of often unsung heroes – and one or two villains – Concretopiais a lively, surprising account of how Britain came to look the way it does.'
Will Wiles, author of CARE OF WOODEN FLOORS

'Grindrod is as interested in the people  as the buildings, and this distinguishes the book from conventional architectural histories. ... This approach adds warmth and personality and makes the 450 pages inviting rather than intimidating. ... It's an accessible introduction to the key events and buildings of the period for any student.'

Steve Parnell, ICON magazine

For the Facebook inclined, there's a page with news about it here.

Thanks to everyone who'sbought a copy, I really do hope you enjoy it.

Interactive timeline of Concretopia

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Here's an interactive timeline for some of the major events and plans I write about in Concretopia.

Concretopia on the news

Ten tower block tales

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1. The Lawns, Harlow.
The Lawns was Britain's first 'point block'– a form of tower block that had become popular in the 1940s. In a point block all of the flats in the tower are accessed off a central core of lifts and stairs. This modest block of single bedroom flats was designed by Frederick Gibberd, the architect-planner of Harlow New Town, and opened in 1951 in time to be given a certificate by the Festival of Britain. He designed it as a vertical landmark for the town, like a church spire. Two months after it was opened, Walter Gropius, the founder of the Bauhaus, made his thoughts known on the state of town planning in the UK: ‘He is a keen advocate of blocks of flats in the country,’ reported the Observer, ‘such as that just finished at Harlow, pointing out their advantages for the newly married or the old couple’. It's listed now, and kept in tip-top shape.
Picture (c) Harlow Museum and Science Alive
 

2. Churchill Gardens, Pimlico.
Churchill Gardens is not just one but 32 tower blocks in varying styles designed by Philip Powell and Jacko Moya, who would also design the Skylon for the Festival of Britain. They were still in their twenties when they won the competition to design the scheme in 1946, to transforms a bomb-damaged wasteland. The massive, handsome, Thames-side estate wasn't finished until 1962 and is still pristine today.
3. Hutchesontown-Gorbals Area B (or Gorbals Riverside), Glasgow
These four tower blocks and accompanying low-rise maisonettes, shops and pub were designed by the firm RMJM, run by celebrated Scottish architect Robert Matthew, former chief architect at the London County Council. They were designed in 1958 and completed in the early 60s, as just one part of the massive demolition and redevelopment of the Gorbals, which spread to 5 different huge schemes. These were the first tower blocks in the Gorbals. Michael Noble, Secretary of State for Scotland, opened them in November 1962 with the promise that ‘here the world is going to see the real “Miracle in the Gorbals.”’ As the Glasgow Herald reported, his speech was followed by ‘a burst of applause from those watching, cheering when the interior lights were switched on and startled comments when a maroon-type rocket was fired with a loud report and a falling cluster of stars’. The whole estate has recently been renovated and tarted up.
4. Hutchesontown-Gorbals Area C, (or Queen Elizabeth Flats), Glasgow
Successful as Robert Matthew's flats have been, the most famous of the Gorbals high rise blocks were those designed by flamboyant Scottish architect Basil Spence. Sat in the area next to Matthew's blocks, the Queenies took an age to build due to their complex concrete construction, and took their inspiration, like so many blocks in Britain at the time, from Le Corbusier's vast concrete Unité d'Habitation in Marseilles. At first residents loved the all-mod-cons flats with their verandas in the sky. One former resident I interviewed compared them to Buckingham Palace, a flying saucer to Mars, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and mardi gras. But lack of management would eventually do for them, resulting in everything from terrible damp problems to a crime wave. They were demolished in the 1990s.
Picture (c) Simon Chirgwin
5. Cruddas Park, Newcastle-Upon-Tyne
T. Dan Smith was the leader of the Labour council in Newcastle from the late 50s and was determined to tackle the city's terrible slum problems with some quick fixes – and Cruddas Park was his first success. Initially eight point blocks were built on a slope overlooking the Tyne and Scotswood Road from old plans that had been knocking about the office for some time. By the 1980s these celebrated flats were, like the Queenies in Glasgow, besieged with social problems, particularly stemming from heroin and glue addiction. After years of decline three of these original towers have been saved while the other five have been razed, and they've been completely restyled and remodelled as Riverside Dene, luxury private apartments, though they can still be seen in their original state in the closing credits of Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads, framed by the doorway of an otherwise demolished Victorian tenement. Picture (c) Jim Pickett

6. The Tower, Cwmbran
Like Harlow, Cwmbran was one of the earliest New Towns, but it took until the 1960s for it to get a tower block, which, at 23 storeys, is over twice the height of pioneering point block The Lawns. The Tower was built next to the new town centre, and its distinguishing feature is a flue that runs all the way up one side: the chimney for the central area's entire district heating scheme.
Picture (c) Cold War Warrior.

7. Shakespeare, Lauderdale and Cromwell Towers, Barbican, London
The Barbican, site of the London Blitz, took years to rebuild. And when it finally was, from plans drawn up in the late 50s by architects Chamberlin, Powell and Bon, one of their main objectives was to bring housing back into the City of London, whose residents post-WWII had fallen to less than 100. Much of the Barbican site is taken up by flats, most of them low rise, but the three towers – Shakespeare, Lauderdale and Cromwell – dominate the area. At 42 storeys they were the tallest residential towers in Europe when they were finished in the late 1960s, and the rugged concrete facade was created by pick-hammering the surface by hand.

8. Red Road, Glasgow
No city planners embraced the high rise like those in Glasgow. There were blocks as part of grand comprehensive redevelopment schemes, blocks plonked willy-nilly wherever there were gaps, but no other blocks quite like the Red Road flats. Rivalling the Barbican towers in height, these steel-framed giants were designed by city architect Sam Bunton on a scale previously unseen in the city. Over the years the flats became almost a separate town within the city, housing some of the very poorest people in Britain. Following decades of bad press and tragic tales, the blocks are slowly being demolished, not an easy task because of the amount of asbestos used in construction.

9. Bewick Court, Newcastle-Upon-Tyne
The early 70s saw the construction of proto-yuppie flats in the UK, and 21-storey Bewick Court was a great example. Built in the city centre in Newcastle over a busy road, they were designed to provide luxury accommodation to what property programmes in the noughties would routinely call 'young urban professionals'. The original residents told The Journal in 1971 such amazing comments as 'I don’t want to know about Mrs Smith’s cake that hasn’t come out of the oven properly. If I bought some fish and chips but had no salt I’d go without. I wouldn’t borrow it off neighbours. I want to keep myself to myself' and ‘I could imagine that living here can be quite horrible, but I’ve escaped what I wanted to escape from.’ These days it's been horribly clad and its luxury flat days are behind it.
10. Balfron Tower, London
In many ways the story of Balfron Tower is the opposite to that of Bewick Court. Designed by Ernő Goldfinger in the mid-sixties as council housing as part of an estate in Poplar, 27 storey Balfron Tower has recently seen most of its residents turfed out before it's refurbished as luxury flats. As with the refurbished Park Hill in Sheffield it's bad news for council residents, as those design-savvy Ernő lived there briefly in 1968, and moved out hours before a badly-constructed system built block down the road in Canning Town, called Ronan Court, partially collapsed after a gas explosion – an incident that helped spell the end of the high rise in Britain, at least until the rise of Docklands.




A Council Way of Life

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Here's a beautiful documentary, One Below the Queen, about the Alexandra and Ainsworth Estate in Swiss Cottage, London. It's made up from tons of warts-and-all interviews with the residents, from kids to pensioners, and really brings out what living in the estate must be like. It also includes a fascinating interview with Neave Brown, the sparkly-eyed, refreshingly unpretentious architect. A wonderfully generous approach to film-making and the estate.

A veritable jewel in the navel of Scotland

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Of all the promotional films made by local councils to promote their new towns, one soars above all the others in terms of ambition, imagination and sheer brazen camp. Cumbernauld Hit was made in 1977 by the new town's development corporation. When I interviewed some of the original architects and planners from the corporation for Concretopia they immediately regretted mentioning it. Unlike Gregory's Girl, the town's other notable film, Cumbernauld Hit is a rather bizarre affair. taking a cue from the megastructure that formed the town centre, the film became a comedy action thriller in the vein of The Italian Job, with a super-villain attempting to hold the town to ransom. When that villain is played by Fenella Fielding the result was never in doubt: how could the windswept modernist hill town resist the seductive stylings of the Carry On veteran? With helicopter shots, be-flared henchmen and a wucka-wucka soundtrack, Cumbernauld Hit is a public information film for the Confessions age. And it's gloriously good fun.

Proud Denys Lasdun shows off his UEA designs

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Terrific archive footage courtesy of the East Anglian Film Archive, of Denys Lasdun in 1963 showing off and discussing his student flats for the University of East Anglia. As with his 50s East London flats and his 70s National Theatre, he spends a lot of time talking about the flow of the buildings, how people might happen across each-other and how they might become social spaces. Great footage too of the model and the snowy site. Here's the Lasdun film.

The archive is packed with gems. Here's a half hour documentary from 1974 showing the finished halls, as part of a film made by the Netherlands about the university, packed with interviews and terrific shots of the insides and outsides of Denys Lasdun's buildings, and a glimpse of student life from the era of Malcolm Bradbury's university satire The History Man. Here's the documentary.

No Place Like Hulme

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Here's part of a fascinating World in Action documentary from 1978 on Hulme Crescents, Manchester's slum redevelopment scheme – with 3,484 homes the biggest in Europe. Made just 7 years after the Crescents were first occupied, the documentary focusses on the already thriving social problems in them, exacerbated by the 'nowhere to run' decks and the council's housing policy of using them as a 'dumping ground'. After various attempts at retrofitting them and then a decade of abandonment, during which time it became mainly home to squatters, The Crescents were demolished in 1994, although the memory of them lives on, a kind of Wild West meets Cold War Berlin.

They'd been designed by Hugh Wilson and Lewis Womersley, the partnership who'd also go on to design Manchester's giant Arndale. Wolmersley was spreading his enthusiasm for deck access flats from his success in Sheffield, where he'd overseen the design of Park Hill. Wilson had led the design of that other futuristic town, Cumbernauld.


Here's some footage of the demolition.

The Pedway: Elevating London

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Here's a beautiful documentary. The Pedway: Elevating London by Chris Bevan Lee tells the story of the City of London's decision to build a network of high-level walkways to separate pedestrians from car traffic: the city's Route 11. As part of that the documentary brings in the Bauhaus, the Festival of Britain, the Barbican, Prince Charles (I know…) and lots and lots of Jonathan Glancey interview. There's so much beautiful archive footage, if you like that sort of thing (like what I do) you'll be swooning from the off. Some of the tone is a bit sad and lonely (lots of slow-moving shots of empty office blocks and walkways, some of which I use quite often and aren't as sad as they look here), but it really is a great watch, worth setting aside some time for.


The Pedway: Elevating London (Documentary) from Chris Bevan Lee on Vimeo.

The Ladybird Book of Modernism

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2015 will be the centenary of Ladybird Books, but it wasn't until the launch of their Peter and Jane books, the Key Word Reading Scheme, in 1964 that they really became household names. They eventually became part of Penguin and stopped producing their trademark little board-covered books in the late 1990s.

The rise of Ladybird books in the postwar period coincided with the rebuilding of towns and cities, and as a result many of the books, so associated with a cosy pipe-smoking suburban view of Britain, actually showcased a rather more go-ahead modernist view of life. Here's ten classic images from their books that make up something like a hidden Ladybird Book of Modernism.

1. Here's modernism at its most raw: the steel frame of a block, from People at Work: The Builder. Illustration by John Berry, published 1965.
2. The Story of Nuclear Power is probably Ladybird's most ambitious and complex book, and contains some fantastic diagrams. Here's an illustration of one of the first wave of British nuclear power stations, drawn by Robert Ayton in 1972.
3. Robert Ayton again supplied the illustrations for the 1961 Ladybird Achievements book Great Inventions, here showcasing an airport radar.
4. Here's a veritably Corbusian view of Homes, from 1975, illustrated by Bernard Robinson, a fellow Croydonian.
5. The high-tech How It Works book on The Telephone has everything a 1972 child could wish for, from lots of orange to a Trim Phone. It also features the Post Office Tower. Illustration again by Bernard Robinson.
6. Here's London Airport in 1961, from The Ladybird Book of London, illustrated by John Berry. The airport was renamed Heathrow in 1965.

7. How It Works: The Computer has become a classic Ladybird book because of its depiction of 1979's finest technology. Bernard Robinson again did the honours here, with a great display of mainframe computers.

8. The Ladybird Book of Motor-Cars from 1960 was illustrated by David Carey, and shows a country in transition in quite a rough and ready way – well, for Ladybird, at any rate.

9. John Berry again here, with a pristine motorway image from his book The Road Makers, published in 1967.

10. And so we end on one of my favourite modern buildings, BBC Television Centre, now sadly being knocked about to be turned into a hotel, flats and god knows what. These are the end papers from another How It Works book, Television, from 1968, illustrated by our old friend Bernard Robinson. Beautiful stuff.

Timelapse film of the building of John Madin's Birmingham Central Library

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Photographer Derek Fairbrother took this incredible series of photos from the same spot in Birmingham between the mid-sixties and 1973. It shows the demolition of Mason Science College [on the left] among others, to be replaced by John Madin's vastly scaled-down and de-speced plans for the Central Library. It illustrates quite vividly how much the city changed in that time, from Victorian grandeur to modernist spectacular.





Birmingham timelapse from 7inch cinema on Vimeo.

IBM, Eames and Saarinen at the 1964 World's Fair

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In 1964 New York hosted it's third World's Fair. Much of the American focus was on high-tech and space-age technology, and in many ways represented the birth of the computer age, with pavillions built by corporations such as Bell and Westinghouse. Perhaps the most striking was built by International Business Machines, or IBM.

They engaged Eero Saarinen, the great Finnish architect who would die before the structure was even started, and Charles and Ray Eames, the celebrated designers, to create their pavillion. They came up with an egg-shaped cinema, under which an acre of steel trees formed a strange futuristic garden. The cinema featured 22 screens that showed the various elements of the Eameses' film Think, explaining data processing, and the seated audience were transported en masse from below to the theatre on a massive set of hydraulic rams.

Charles and Ray Eames created a rather brilliant abstract record of the show on film, IBM at the Fair. Using sped-up timelapse photography, they turn the audience themselves into bits of data to be processed by IBM's vast pavillion. Brilliant music by Elmer 'Man with the Golden Arm' Bernstein helps accentuate the chaos and beauty of it all. The style of the film would be imitated two decades later by Godfrey Reggio and Philip Glass in their masterpiece Koyaanisqatsi, to rather less optimistic effect. This blog here contains some excellent further information.

Imagining Washington New Town

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The Washington New Town plan was drawn up by the same team who worked on Milton Keynes: the snappily named Llewelyn-Davies, Weeks, Forestier-Walker and Bor. The Washington New Town plan book was published in 1966, and the Milton Keynes initial plan followed four years later. In terms of presentation, the two plans couldn't have been more different. The Washington New Town book was a plain brown landscape-format hardback. It contained very little colour, and outline sketches were completed in rough pencil. The Milton Keynes plan was soft-backed folder in vivid aquamarine, and the plans inside were in bold clean lines and coloured bright orange, red, blue and green. 

I'm fascinated by the Washington New Town plan. The book may be unshowy, but it is beautifully designed. It contains much of the same basic information as the MK one, but lacks the radical large-scale thinking of the Buckinghamshire town. This may be because Washington was smaller scale, chiefly connecting up villages, rather than dwarfing existing towns as in MK. But they shared many similarities, including naming: MK's famous grid roads were known for a long time simply as Vertical or Horizontal numbers, such as the V4 or H7; and Washington's individual estates were known simply by number for many years.

I've scanned some of the drawings from the long out-of-print Washington New Town plan. They appear to be the work of an artist who signed them simply Brookewhite. Whether this was Chris Brookewhite, the New Zealand architect, I don't know. There's no further reference to the artist in the book. But they are brilliant and beautiful pencil drawings, presenting a rugged and monochrome image of the projected town, somewhat reflected in the actual architecture, although never as stylishly optimistic and futuristic as depicted here. I've included the original captions from the pictures to add a bit of context.

Fatfield Centre could be given a distinctive character by taking advantage of its waterfront location, as this artist's impression suggests.
View of a village centre bringing together a primary school, youth club, bus stop, village common room, pub, shops and local employment. Some existing buildings are retained to add to the character of the centre.

Industrial estate approached from residential area. Well designed factories will help to give variety to the town.

The Shopping Centre and Sports Stadium.
The edge of a village. A clear difference between built up areas and open spaces will help to define the villages. A consistent architectural approach, giving rise to a unified appearance throughout each individual village, could help to distinguish between them.

A development road. People may be expected to have as many friends across the street as across the communal garden.

A communal garden. In each village a proportion of households will be planned around enclosed, semi-private gardens, the use of which is reserved for the housemates surrounding them and where the youngest children can play in complete safety.

The Shopping Centre and Sports Stadium seen from the primary network.

James Bolam: Modernist Prophet

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Whenever I think of postwar modernism I think of James Bolam. Sort of. Here's three reasons why.

 Firstly, here's the opening titles of Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? featuring the demolition and rebuilding of Newcastle, including the towers of Cruddas Park rising above the bulldozed wasteland of the city. The song has a rousingly nostalgic tone, setting the scene. Bob has moved into a classic New Town-style newbuild house, representing how he's broken with the past and has become upwardly mobile, white Terry (Bolam) remains adamantly wedded to his working class roots.

From the mid-eighties, here's a piece from peerless comedy drama The Beiderbecke Affair by the wonderful Alan Plater. Beautifully filmed, much of the school scenes were done in long shot through the glass walls, usually with either a deadpan Bolam-Flynn voice-over, or jaunty Beiderbecke jazz. Here's a typically delightful and stylish segment from the first episode.

Lastly, there's a fantastic documentary from the newly born Channel Four in 1982 called The Sixties, before the channel turned into lifestyle porn and 'reality' cruelty. Narrated in characterful fashion by James Bolam, this episode The Getaway People tells the story of postwar rebuilding and features interviews with ageing hipster Reyner Banham, patrician traffic guru Colin Buchanan, soulful Alison Ravetz bemoaning the destruction of the old city fabric, and incisive planning expert Peter Hall, speaking about systems in the manner of Adam Curtis. The documentary's aim, as in so much of the eighties, is to dismantle the dreams of the 1960s, in this case the planners and architects, particularly the transport planners. Here we have Buchanan's Traffic in Towns report taken weirdly literally, considering how it appeared to be half-warning how crazy the destruction of towns for the car could be. Leeds gets it in the neck, as it usually does in discussions about sixties planning, with fascinating interviews with two former Lord Mayors of Leeds discussing the pressures on them from the governments of the day. And, naturally, the arrival of systems built high rise blocks crashes into the programme like a ton of concrete, with an amazing Sectra ad and footage from the time of Ronan Point. The footage and interviews are completely brilliant, it's a must-see.

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