The old theatre

(Disclaimer: Joking aside, I fully understand the risks/dangers involved in these adventures and do so in the full knowledge of what could happen. I don't encourage or condone and I accept no responsibility for anyone else following in my footsteps. Under UK law, trespass without force is a civil offence. I never break into a place, I never photograph a place that is currently occupied, I never take any items and I never cause any damage, as such no criminal offences have been committed in the making of this blog. I will not disclose location.  I leave the building as I find it and only enter to take photographs for my own pleasure and to document the building.  

 

 

Between the years of 1895 and 1915, Britain saw a bit of a theatre boom. They were all the rage, and many were architectural works of art. Unfortunately during the post-war redevelopment in the latter half of the 20th Century, many were demolished. Some had been damaged by German bombs, and others were just dismissed as relics to be cast aside in the redevelopment. This one survived  by being converted into a bingo hall, which is a bit of a dull ending for it, let's be honest. However, credit where credits due, if it wasn't for bingo, this building wouldn't still be here, and it's arguably one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever documented.

 

In 1899, the buildings first foundation stone was laid by Sir Henry Irving, a stage performer, freemason, the first actor to ever recieve a knighthood, and also Dracula. No joke. His business manager and BFF in the 1890s was Bram Stoker, and many of his early notes make it clear that Henry Irving was Dracula's physical inspiration. And it's easy to see why based on Irvings physical features. If I passed him on the street I'd think "Oh my God, he looks like Dracula." When in actual fact, Dracula looks like him. My bad.

A tad melodramatic, when Irvings wife told him to get a real job, he just full on stopped the carriage, hopped out, and vanished into the night, never to be seen again. At least, not by her. She still refered to herself as Lady Irving after his knighthood so she's a bit of a tit. She was also pregnant when he abruptly left, so he was a bit of a tit too.

 

When Henry Irving laid the first stone of this theatre, Bram Stoker was there in attendance, along with the mayor, the architect Bertie Crewe, and a few MPs. Irving laid the first stone with a silver trowel because he was just that flamboyant. I didn't even know silver trowels existed! Who the heck wants a silver trowel? Dracula, apparently. He then gave a short speech- "I have always contended that a well-conducted playhouse is a centre of rational recreaton, and without rational recreation no community can pretend to have its faculties in proper order." 

He's a bit of a tit, but like any tit, sometimes he makes a good point.

The theatre first opened its doors to the public in 1900, with the first show being "The Sign of the Cross," a play about a Roman who falls in love with a Christian woman and converts to Christianity. Today, immediately on the left of the main entrance is this 1980s reception desk, installed during the theatres brief rebirth as a bingo hall. While it's not the original, something similar probably stood in its place during the theatre days. 

It's crazy to think that thousands of people have passed through here in the last hundred years.

 

 

These stairs still have the original Victorian cast iron railing and to the right is a billboard that I wish I'd gotten a better shot of. Allegedly this billboard hides a stone plaque of Queen Elizabeth that was covered over when the building became a bingo hall. I'm not sure how true that is, since the current reptile overlord only accended to Queenhood in 1952, half a century after this place opened, and less than a decade before it closed. Perhaps it was added in celebration of her becoming Queen, or perhaps it's the first Queen Elizabeth under there. That actually does make a teeny bit of sense, since she reigned when Shakespeare was at the height of his popularity, so it's fitting that a theatre would reference that. I don't know, and I don't really want to rip the wall apart to find out. But it does seem unlikely that the bingo hall would cover up the present day Queen.

 

The entry hall leads to this little area.

At first you might find the ceiling a bit weird, but the truth is the theatres seats are directly above us, and doors to either side lead out into the main auditorium.

 

But first, let's go upstairs to the front of the building. It's quite cool there too.

 

This was once a lounge and cafe area, redesigned into its current look in 1919. I have no idea what Bertie Crewe's original version of this area was, but he was one of the Victorian era's most dynamic architects, so it was probably pretty fancy. Bertie Crewe specialised entirely in theatres, building 35 before he got round to this one, and then setting his sights on Liverpool and the big space that would become the hippodrome only a year after this place opened. He even designed a few in Paris and Brussels. 

 

As the 20th Century progressed, times changed, technology advanced, and this place soon took the steps to becoming a cinema, trying it out initially in 1913, retreating back to exclusively theatre work in 1917, before finally commiting to the change in 1919, probably around the time that this area was redesigned. The seating capacity had also been raised from 2000 to 3000 in 1910, which is indicative of its early success. There was some minor controversy because the local council weren't particularly fond of its license to sell alcohol, worried that they'd just get people coming in to drink, and disrupt the vibe for the folks who were there for the theatre. I'm not sure who won that battle, but generally the theatre was a hit.

Apparently once the building became a bingo hall, this space was rented out as a function area for birthday parties and stuff.

 

Strewn across the floor are the original cast iron seat frames of the theatres chairs. It's all still here, cleared out of the auditorium and dumped.

 

 

Presumably pictures once hung above the archway.

 

 

These old bingo tables are still up here too.

 

 

All the old seat cushions are still here. Just think how many people have farted on these over the last hundred years.

 

 It's finally time to enter the auditorium.

 

 

Check it out! It's gorgeous! It felt absolutely amazing to be here among such architecture. It was pitch black and I could only see these features by shining a torch around, completely mindblown by what I was seeing. The shots were taken by mounting my camera on the parapet and shining a light around during a long exposure. Just look at how much effort went into designing this place, just for it to sit here, lifeless nd empty, rotting away. 

 

 

So this balcony of the theatre, closest to the ground, is known as the dress circle. The name allegedly derives from societal expectations for the people sat here to dress sharp, due to being the second-most visible members of the audience, after those who were rich enough to book the side booths. During the era of class divisions, where one sat was an indication of ones wealth. Why do you think the side booths were just as visible to the audience as the stage was? Because those who could afford them wanted everyone to know it. 

 

But anyone who has ever gone to the theatre will probably agree, the dress circle is the best place to sit for a view of the stage. 

Ghost enthusiasts will be interested to know that this balcony is said to be haunted by a "white lady" who killed herself by jumping over the edge. I can't find any official document supporting her death, so I can't confirm it actually happened. I didn't experience anything supernatural on my visit, either. Still, it's a fun story. I can think of uglier places to haunt for all eternity, so good for her.

 

The ceiling was once pretty grand but is now severely damaged and on the verge of collapse. Long ago, a fancy chandeilier hung from the middle of it.

 

 

The boxes at the side would have been booked by the wealthy. Politicians, businessmen, and maybe even famous people would have sat here. Personally I'm impressed by these statues that still stand on either side of it. There are four in total because the auditorium is symmetrical.

 

 

 

The "no outlet" sign is possibly 1970s design, but I'm no expert. Through that door, stairs lead upwards, and we'll get to that soon!

 

 

Up close it's possible to see just how neglected the statues are. But while they are dirty and covered in cobwebs, there's no actual damage. These could be saved. 

 

There's a bit of graffiti up on the rear circle.

 

 

I'm not a fan of the graffiti, but it does restore some faith in humanity that they kept their artistic efforts to the walls and left the prettier parts of the theatre alone. Having said that, they could be the reasons why the seats are strewn all over the place, in which case they're a bunch of nobs.

 

 

There's still loads of 1980s bingo tinsel all over the walls. How has this survived?

 

 

Time to head to the top floor!

 

 

Upstairs, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the theatre had another balcony, this one closed off from the public by later alterations when the building became a bingo hall. This top balcony is often referred to as "The Gods" in theatre lingo, which is presumably more to do with the height rather than the quality. These were the cheapest seats in the theatre, and the seats here didn't even have cushions. They were simply wooden benches, reminiscent of a church pew.

Much to my delight, there was a door in the wall, allowing me access down to the rest of the closed off balcony.

 

As you can see, the wall they installed to shut off "The Gods" from the rest of the auditorium cuts pretty close to the railing. I had to really squeeze to get around it. Still, here the peasants had the opportunity to spit in the rich folks popcorn, or whatever the Victorians had as an equivalent. 

Opium?

The view from up here is pretty epic.

 

 

In the latter half of the 20th Century, many fantastic theatres were lost forever, some destroyed by German bombs and others swept up in the modernisation that came with post-war restoration. This theatre closed its doors in 1958, but briefly reopened as a clothing store. However in 1963 it ended up being owned by a chap called Greenberg, and he had a sentimental attachment to the place, presumably having some ties to it from back when it was a theatre. He was determined to breathe some life into it, and used the theatre for pantomimes, repertory groups, and also musical performances. 

It seems that in spite of his love for the theatre, Greenberg knew that he couldn't maintain it long term, because throughout his time owning it he tried in vain to get the council to take it off his hands. Ultimately this failed. It was estimated that the cost of modernising the theatre would be something around £80,000, which is over a million pounds by todays standards, and the council weren't willing to splash out on what was, in their own words, a hopeless Victorian relic.

 

Nevertheless, Greenberg ran it as a theatre for as long as he was able to, and from what I can tell, it was a hit with the community. Tom Jones performed here in the 1960s, before he got old and ended up looking like a white Morgan Freeman. Other musical performers included Clinton Ford, who I've never heard of, and Engelbert Humperdinck, who is apparently a real human and not a fictional wizard.

Roy Rolland performed here as "Old Mother Riley," which was essentially a comedy drag act, and a few other comedians of the era made appearances too, like Charles Hawtrey of the "Carry On" movies, Danny Ross of the radio comedy "The Clitheroe Kid," and Jimmy James who was considered one of the best English comedians of his time.

"Salad Days" was also performed here. That's a musical with an absolutely batty plot featuring magic pianos and flying saucers.

And to name something that millenials and under will recognise, Cinderella was performed here too.

Greenberg died in 1971, shortly before the last performance that the theatre would show, Quaker Girl, a musical about a girl who runs away to Paris after she's disowned by her parents for drinking champagne.

And with that, the theatre was silent.

 

 

The theatre first opened as a bingo hall in 1973, a move that absolutely saved it from demolition. A fire had damaged the roof somewhat, and it needed a little restructuring, and I'm pretty sure that had it not been snapped up for bingo, the damage would have done more to srgue in favour of the buildings demolition. At least as a bingo hall it had the chance to serve the community again. Unfortunately it failed miserably, at least at first. Some clever folk knew that give it a decade and a whole new generation of bingo-goers would be ready, and eager. Bingo was once again attempted in the 1980s, and this time it was a hit! It lasted as a bingo hall right up until 2008.

That's a remarkrable history. This place has been bursting with life for over a century. 108 years of being an asset to the community. Thousands of people have come here to enjoy stage productions, music, theatre, movies and bingo. But ultimately 2008 brought about the end. The theatre was put back on the market in 2012 for £275,000 but so far nothing has happened to it. Although, the front canopy was taken out by a truck at some point in the early 2000s, and someone did use it as a Cannabis farm in 2018.

 

   

 

On the area that was once the stage, the old bingo board still hangs on the wall. 

There's some graffiti too, but it's terrible.

 

 

The former stage is surprisingly gigantic. Naturally, they took full advantage of this back in the day. A showing of Babes in theWood involved having a ginormous functional waterfall on stage, which the cast traversed via planks of wood in ballet shoes. Babes in the Wood was of particular interest to me, because I'd heard of the "Babes in the Wood" murders of 1986, but I had no idea that the incident was named after a pantomime. What morbid genius came up with that?

 

 

At the back of the stage was a tiny kitchen area. In theatre times, I think this would have been a silly place for a kitchen, but maybe served some other purpose. It seems a bit more modern, and probably served refreshments to bingo-goers.

 

 

This awesomely ominous freezer tickles the imagination. I had to peek to make sure there wasn't a body in there.

 

This graffiti says that "An idiot explores" is a gay tory. Usually I censor other people plugging their social media, but this was funny. Obviously, any urban explorer who feels the need to vandalise in order to get people to follow their social media is a bit of a pleb, not only for the vandalism, but also for the simple fact that nobody is going to want to check out their social media to see pictures or a video of this place when they're here seeing it in person. What a buffoon. The person calling him a gay tory seems to be the same person who scribbled orange all over the place, so they're a pleb too.

But I don't know these people, and it's wrong to assume the worst. Maybe they've grown up since they scribbled this.

Now on to the best part of any abandoned place- the toilets!

 

 

Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.

 

 

The other "backstage" areas still have much of interest. There's this rather awesome art deco banister on some stairs.

  

 

The guy who wrote "Gay Tory" is a fan of the Stone Roses.

Or Poppy.

 

 

There's this rather vintage-looking fire exit, ironically cluttered beyond the point of usefulness. It looks like the stairwell has just become a dumping ground.

 

 

There's also a series of stairways leading down from the theatre balconies. These look like the original 1900 stairwells, and it seems that these areas were not repurposed for anything during the buildings bingo hall days, meaning that this is perhaps the most decayed part of the entire place. That makes these stairs particularly dangerous, but it also means we'll find some nuggets of architectural greatness, for sure.

 

 

I have no idea what this part was for, but I love this doorway.

 

 

There's this awesome 1920s lightswitch, ripped from the wall, but still connected to the ceiling.

 

 

This is actually quite the find. I mentioned earlier that the roof had to be modified in the 1970s after a fire. Well, old photos show the buildings exterior with a set of circular windows  along the roof, as well as a three little tower structures. These were removed and the roof of the building was flattened. But I think this is one of the old circular windows, dropped off down here where nobody would ever see it.

 

 

And then we have this, which is interesting. It seems that this little labyrinth of wooden stairwells were actually the audience toilets back in the day. However these urinals are considerably older than the toilets previously shown, and the placement of the stairs and floorboards suggest that modifications have taken place. There actually isn't a piss basin anymore, because of the floorboard placement, but that's okay, men never get it in the toilet anyway.

 

 

Towards the front of the building, we also have this plant reaching into the building. For all the smashed bits and natural decay, this is the only example of nature creeping in, but it's still quite worrying. Once the elements get in then the deterioration will only escalate. At least it looks cool.

 

 

There's also this nice little side room alongside the theatre, just off from one of the balconys. It seemed a bit strange, with its central fireplace. In fact it felt almost homely. No doubt this was someones office back in the day. I would love to have seen this back when it was fully furnished.

 

 

The stairs leading down to ground floor from this office have this cool little carpet still here.

 

 

Underneath the stage is pretty interesting too, although it's been used more for storage during the bingo days. I found out afterwards that the wood down here is the remains of sub-stage machinery, such as the "Grave Trap," a trap door in the middle of the stage, so called because of its most common theatrical use, as a grave in Hamlet. I wish I'd known this before I'd come down here so that I could have taken a better look. 

 

 

And I presume this was the actors toilet back in the buildings theatre days, given that it's backstage and not behind the auditorium seats. There's a bit of graffiti in these back rooms too, and it's a teeny bit more artistic than what we've seen so far.

 

Since its closure in 2008, metal thieves have been in and robbed the place, but now there's a pretty passionate campaign to save it, restore it and bring it back to some sort of theatrical usage. 

And that's great! This place is beautiful and totally deserves more than to rot away into quiet oblivion. The fact that one has to trespass to see it is a crime greater than the trespass itself. And in this case, it took a bit of a scramble, the challenge of access no doubt contributing to its preservation. Had this been a walk-in, the bingo tinsel would have been set on fire and those statues wuld be in pieces.

Since my visit, the theatre has got new owners, and they seem to be taking steps to secure it, so I'm hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, this place hads a bright future ahead of it. 

 

Thats all I got. Next blog will be about a youth club, and then after that I'll be documenting a court house. In the meantime, follow me on Instagram, Vero, Reddit, maybe Twitter, and I guess Facebook too, although I mostly just post rooftop photos there, and ignore all attempts to contact me, because it's a cesspit.

 

Anyway, thanks for reading!