Today's blog is this gorgeous, but seriously dilapidated hotel in Wales. I went here years ago, and totally forgot. My photos were just sitting there on my computer waiting to be noticed. So I figured now is a good a time as any to talk about this place. It really has quite the history, if a little bit muddled by subsequent retellings.
As is often the case, the mainstream media has reported on the place before, done a shitty job researching it, and the incorrect narrative has been copied and pasted into all other posts going forward, making the truth barely visible under layers of bullshit. So this, I say with a sigh, is going to be the kind of blog where I mock people for being terrible researchers, and roll my eyes so often that the inside of my sockets start to erode. Let's have a look, starting with how this place looked back in the day!
(photo not mine, obviously)
That seems plausible.
Sitting on the left is William John Beale. His wife Martha is stood next to him in the dark outfit. Next to her is their daughter, Elizabeth Sarah Beale, who was born in 1838. William John Beale's brother, Samuel, is sat in the middle. Interestingly, Elizabeth ended up marrying Samuel's son, making Samuel her father-in-law as well as her uncle. But let's face it, it wouldn't be a real story about rich people without a sprinkle of incest.
This chap is worth touching on briefly. He was a gold mine owner, but apparently fell on financial difficulties in the 1890s. At the urging of some friends, he purchased this house with the goal of making it into a hotel, in a last ditch attempt at making money. But for whatever reason, it proved unviable and the Beale's had the house back in 1893.
It's a single storey building, which gives it some relatability to those who have reported on this place in the past, in that there's nothing upstairs.
But it turns out that the "mayor of Birmingham" angle is actually kinda wrong. This place wasn't lived in by the Chamberlain's at all. We can actually wipe Joseph Chamberlain from the story. It's not about him.
It's a shame because from what little I did research, the Chamberlain family does have some pretty fascinating history, and I do hope this blog brings about the opportunity for me to delve into them in the future. Not only that, but this hotel looks like a super villain fortress, and Joseph Chamberlain... well he looks a bit like a super villain.
(photo not mine, obviously)
But no, while Joseph Chamberlain may have been Mayor when this place was built, it was actually a solicitor named William John Beale who lived here.
Of the Beale family, a couple of them were mayors of Birmingham at some point. The first was Samuel Beale in 1841. He was William John's Beale's brother, and he did visit this house sometimes.
Then there was Charles Gabriel Beale, who was William John Beale's son. Charles did end up living here for a bit, and he was mayor of Birmingham multiple times, the first being in 1897.
Admittedly, Wales Post just says "Back then it was a country retreat for the mayor of Birmingham," which is vague enough to be accurate. But other newspapers flat out say "It was built in 1873 as a country residence for the mayor of Birmingham at the time" which is just objectively untrue, and not even difficult to verify.
But then this is the sort of thing I've come to expect from modern journalism. When a chunk of my research involves the mainstream media I've learned to take everything with a pinch bucket of salt.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
Of the other two ladies, one of them is Samuel's wife Mary, and the other one is the other daughter of Martha and William, Mary Emma Beale, who was born in 1848. Standing at the end is one of William and Martha's sons, James, who was born in 1840.
In 1838 William John Beale founded Beale & Co ltd, a law firm that is still around today. Back then it was very much a family thing. Many of the Beale's were solicitors. But as William got older, he wanted a suitable place to retire to, and this place was built for him.
It was allegedly designed by an architect called A.B Phipson, and it comes as no surprise to learn that Phipson was Martha Beale's maiden name. They're almost definitely related.
But despite the mainstream media saying that it was built in 1873, census records show that the Beale's were living here in 1871.
At this point the newspapers should just offer me a job. I'd get in just by adding "Knows how to use Google" to my CV.
Also living here were William's wife Martha, their daughter Elizabeth, and their youngest son Edwin, who was only nineteen.
Elizabeth would move out fairly swiftly but Edwin would stay. In fact records show that he continued living here after his parents died in 1883, although he seems to have left by 1901.
Incidentally Edwin wasn't Mayor of Birmingham either. He was a surgeon, and he lived to the ripe old age of 101.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
Here we have Mary Beale, Samuel Beale, Martha Beale and Elizabeth Sarah Beale sitting, while William John Beale stands behind them.
This is clearly the garden here, and it's pretty cool to see it over a century ago.
William John Beale had quite the legacy. As well as being the founder of the family law firm, he was involved in Birmingham's triennial music festival, and helped fund the general hospital. After he came here to retire he financed a new chapel, helped fund the primary school and established a night school for adults.
And it's so nice to see rich people actually use their wealth and influence to improve their communities. I wish we saw more of this today.
Here's another picture of the building in Beale's day.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
Charles Gabriel Beale moved in after his brother Edwin moved out. Like his father, he was a bit of a saint to the community, even inviting the local school over for dinner. It must have been a great treat for any children of impoverished families, to dine with rich people.
Here's a picture of Charles Beale.
(Image credit: Wikipedia)
Charles initially managed the Birmingham branch of Beale & Co, and it's hard to keep track of how much time he spent here. It seems to be a holiday retreat for him and his family more than anything, so he's not going to show up as the occupant on census records. In 1868 he married Alice Kenrick, who happens to be the sister of Florence Kenrick, Neville Chamberlain's mother.
Those pesky Chamberlains have clawed their way back into the narrative.
Florence died when she was 27 and Daddy Chamberlain remarried her cousin Harriet. Just making his way around the family.
According to the 1901 census, Charles and Alice's daughter, Norah, lived here when she was 27, and in 1906 she married Wilfred Byng-Kenrick, the son of her uncle William Kenrick. So there's more cousin fucking going on. William Kenrick's wife Mary was also Neville Chamberlains aunt, so the two families were very intermingled.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
This photo was taken long after Charles Beale died. The elderly lady on the end is his widowed wife, Alice. Next to her is Hubert Beale, her son, born 1869. The woman on the left is his daughter-in-law, Elsie, born 1906. One of the little girls is Elsie's daughter Sylvia, born 1932 and the other is Elizabeth Beale of unknown relation. So there's four generations of Beale here. Given how expansive, but also how connected this family is, it wouldn't surprise me if they've all set foot in this building.
But then in 1892, it was sold to a chap named William Pritchard Morgan.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Charles died here in 1912 and what happened then is a bit of a mystery. One source says it became a hotel after Charles died, but another, more trustworthy source says that it was used by the military during World War 2, and only became a hotel once the war ended. So I guess the big mystery is what happened to the house between 1912 and 1939.
Well Alice Beale was still alive. People forget that. She lived until the age of 95, and died in 1940. It all adds up.
But this brings us to the enduring question of Neville Chamberlain.
I'll throw a picture of him here too.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
He's the one on the left.
The media likes to harp on about how he was one of the hotels more frequent guests.
Here's the thing about that. Neville Chamberlain died in 1940, a full eight years before this building opened as a hotel.
If there is any truth to him staying here, it's likely because his aunt Alice owned it when it was a house.
It's hardly rocket science.
But speaking of the house, it's about time we take a look! Onto the adventure!
The garden is tiered and has a great view of the nearby estuary. It's weird to think that nearly everyone I've pictured has probably enjoyed this view at some point.
There's a more modern extension to the hotel, which can be seen on the right, boarded up. This area has the bar, and it's off limits today. As you can see, the boards are pretty fresh. There was still a strong smell of sawdust too, so it's been secured fairly recently. Evidently someone still cares about this place. I have seen photos of the bars interior though, and it's actually quite fancy. There was even a suit of armour in there, but it got stolen.
Here's the remains of a green house.
Here's the spiral staircase leading up to the bar area. Due to it being sealed, and not particularly photogenic, I didn't actually take any pictures of it. But I have got some photos of it from back when it was open.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
This little slab of blanditude is far overshadowed by the rest of the hotel, which is far more dilapidated but at least accessible and architecturally fun to look at. This is where I'll be focusing my attention.
I absolutely love this room. Despite being well and truly obliterated by the fire, it still retains its fancy vibe.
Sadly it's been almost completely gutted by a fire. What was once a twenty-room hotel of incredible grandeur is now just a crumbling shell.
As you can see, access is as straightforward as it gets
Here's the main entrance. This part of the hotel was furthest away from the fire and is consequently the most preserved. Presumably there would have been a means of accessing the sealed off bar area around here, but for now this area is the best glimpse we can get at what this hotel once was.
But if we rotate the camera the illusion falls to pieces.
Speaking of things falling to pieces, the media did claim that this place was built in 1873 and I've already proven them wrong by finding census records from 1871. But just how wrong were they?
Well records make mention of this house shockingly earlier than that. Apparently a printer named Richard Jones died here in 1854, but was also born here in 1787. But what's further boggling is that his grandfather, also Richard, died here in 1785 and was born in the nearby area in 1723.
So either there was an earlier building, and the Beale's had a new building put in its place, or the media is wrong by about a hundred years.
Either One is a strong possibility.
The telephone is still behind the reception desk. It hasn't taken a booking in some time.
And here is where the receptionist used to sit.
One urbexer reported that a man named William Hall purchased the house in 1922 and turned it into a hotel.
I have no idea where this person got the date "1922" from, but this same person also claims that the house was built for the mayor of Birmingham, sooo...
Let's unpack it!
William Hall DID own this place and turn it into a hotel. That much is true. Records from 1939 show that he did live in the area.
But he was born in 1924, in Australia, and his obituary flat out says that he opened this place as a hotel after the war.
Seriously, how is it 2025 and people still don't know about Google?
For anyone curious about what the hotels bedrooms used to look like, one has survived the fire, just about.
This is the last surviving room, and it offers a rather charcoaled glimpse into the sort of building this was. The room itself is pretty spacious, and has these really cool marble pillars, a little bit fancier than your standard Travelodge.
I've found conflicting stories of what this place was during the second world war. One source said that the military used it but another said that it temporarily accommodated a girls school from Birmingham who moved away from the city during the blitz. I guess the war was long enough that it could have been both these things, but I am more inclined to believe that it was used for the girls school, based on my sources available.
And then William and Sheila Hall opened it as a hotel in 1948, as evidenced by his obituary.
William Hall was something of a war hero. In 1944 he commanded a troop of flail tanks at an anti-tank obstacle in Holland. He led them over the boggiest of landscapes in the shittiest of weather, and under continuous fire from the Germans.
He led a tank platoon across a canal, engaged a German anti-tank gun, knocked out a German mortar position that was inflicting losses on the infantry, and then engaged a German panther tank.
And then be stopped to change tanks because his was fucked, but he pressed on, killed 24 of the enemy and assisted the infantry in capturing twenty more.
A few months later he saw action in Broekhuizen, where his tank was hit by a bazooka and he was injured. His tank was recovered and is now on display in Overloon war museum.
And yet for all this war bravado, William Hall was a peaceful guy who loved art. He even had some of his paintings put into galleries.
As for his wife Sheila, she was the daughter of the film producer Ted Black. But that's all anyone ever says. She was the wife of a war hero and the daughter of a movie producer. In the 1940s a woman's identity was whatever her husband/father/owner did, and that's a real shame.
It's amazing that some books survived the fire and subsequent pillaging.
Don't burglars read anymore? They don't make them like they uses to.
Among the previous guests of this hotel there are some pretty big names, Neville Chamberlain (finally) aside. Winston Churchill is said to have stayed here, as did an actor called Richard Burton.
(photo not mine, obviously)
I can't verify Winston Churchill but Richard Burton is definitely a former guest. He stayed here when the 1949 movie "The Last Days of Dolwyn" was filmed. It's a story about a greedy developer who butt's heads with a little old lady who objects to his plans. It sounds every bit as relevant today as it was in 1949.
I love the little detailing on these drawers.
That little door in the corner leads to the best part of any abandoned place, the bathroom.
This time I'm not being sarcastic when I say that the bathroom is the best part of an abandoned building. This one is remarkably unscathed in comparison to the rest of the place.
.
And given that some pretty big names have stayed here, it does make me wonder, has Richard Burton shat in this toilet? I guess there's a one-in-twenty chance.
It's time to check out the epicentre of the fire.
The middle of the hotel is a complete wreck. We've got a rough idea of how fancy this place used to be but now it's just a charred shell. The roof and the upper floors are strewn all over the ground, meaning I can't even see the floor. I can't help but wonder what could be buried down there.
In 1985, the Hall family retired from the hotel business. They'd had a successful run and they'd even served as a launchpad for other successful businesses, with their chef from the 1970s going on to open his own restaurant in London.
But as of 1985 this hotel came under the ownership of Michael and Greta Ball.
I actually have an old menu from the 1980s. It has some pretty interesting prices that, if we consider that this was a fancy place, do reflect the passage of time somewhat lamentably.
The hotel's dining room overlooked the estuary, and the food was apparently really nice. The hotel hosted weddings and other events, and even towards the end of the century it had some fairly high profile guests. The most notable were Sean Connery and Richard Gere, during the filming of First Knight in 1995. The locals had great things to say about these men, who were apparently very polite and lovely. Although some of the local women were apparently heartbroken to learn that Richard Gere was actually quite a short-arse in real life. He was also suspected of shop lifting in one of the local shops due to his scruffy appearance. Poor bloke.
This was clearly a bedroom once. We can still see where the bed used to be.
Throughout the wreckage, bits of furniture and baths protrude from the rubble, having come crashing through the floor during the fire. I can't help but wonder, was Sean Connery ever in any of these? What a strange thought.
As we can see, the hotel's story doesn't have a happy ending. I have conflicting sources about the exact dates but in the early 2000s it changed hands again, being owned by Yung-Soo Tong and his wife. Some say they purchased it in 2001 and ran it as a hotel until 2004 while other sources say they purchased it in 2004 and ran it as a hotel until 2013.
In any case, newspapers from 2013 slam the couple, accusing them of causing local outrage by turning the hotel back into a private dwelling. Mrs Tong told the news that they'd tried running it as a hotel but they had staffing issues.
But anyone with a developed frontal cortex knows that when a newspaper tells you that people are outraged, it's because they want you to be outraged. There probably wasn't much actual outrage at all.
Having said that, the place did catch fire mid-renovation in 2020. Perhaps someone wanted to smite the Tongs for their unwelcome changes. And this is where things get really sad, because Mrs Tong didn't survive the fire. Some say she was dragged from the building by the fire brigade but ran back in for her pet dog. Others say she was dragged from the building and then died.
Either way, it's tragic. If this was arson then "we just wanted it to stay a hotel" is probably a lousy excuse for the widowed Yung-Soo.
And likewise, the youtubers claiming to contact Mrs Tong's ghost are pretty sick too. Come on, both William Beale and Charles Beale died here, along with Richard Jones, who somehow managed to die here before the mainstream media purports the buildings construction to have happened, but none of these youtube ghost hunters have made contact with them yet.
It sure is funny how these ghost hunters only ever contact the people they can read about on Wikipedia.
As always, despite my open minded attitude to the supernatural, my stance remains the same. Proof of an afterlife would be the greatest scientific breakthrough in human history. If any unemployed youtuber could do it with a £20 beeping thing off Amazon, the real scientists would be on it like feeding time at the zoo, and it would have been proven by now. Even Ghostbusters, the movie with a giant marshmallow man, knew that the characters needed to be scientists to give the plot even an ounce of plausibility.
This fireplace is pretty nice.
There's one final thing to see, and I almost missed it. I had to scramble over some rubble to get to the doorway, but I managed to locate one final preserved bathroom.
Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.
But that's about it for this place.
I enjoyed it, but I am sad that I couldn't access the bar area. It's still preserved and from what I've seen of other peoples images, it's quite a gorgeous area.
On the other hand, it's been looted now. The suit of armour was vandalised and stolen, and who knows what else they've done. I'd rather poke around natural decay than photograph the shittery left behind because someone somewhere refuses to get therapy.
As far as urbex goes, I am satisfied.
I've lost all faith in the mainstream media and the human races ability to utilise the fact that almost all of humanities recorded knowledge has been readily available at our fingertips for thirty-or-so years. But as an adventurer, I am satisfied.
That's enough.
If you are an urbexer and actually interested in history, then hopefully you'll take away one important tip about research- You can trust the McCanns to babysit more than you can trust the mainstream media to get something right.
My next blog will be underground and it will be very, very cool.
In the meantime, buy my book! I've recently had my rooftopping photos published in a photo book, which is good for tourists who want an unusual perspective of my home town of Shrewsbury, or locals who also want that unusual perspective of Shrewsbury. The thing is, I've been climbing on the rooftops of Shrewsbury since 2010 so locals may like it for its historic relevance. Not only is there an unusual perspective, but Shrewsbury has changed quite a lot over the years, in many ways, some obvious, and some subtle.
Either way, regardless of whether or not I consider myself a real photographer (I am my own biggest critic), Rooftops of Shrewsbury is unique. You can walk into a shop and find hundreds of books on the local history and old photos, but nobody has ever captured and published the changing face of Shrewsbury via rooftop. Someone else might do in the future and that's fine. I'll still be the first.
And as usual, to get regular updates on my blogs, you can follow my social medias too. I'm on the big shitty three, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to dodge the toxicity. The algorithms don't show us what we'd actually like to see. For that reason, I'm really trying to get more out of Bluesky, Cara and Vero. These are perfectly good replacements for Twitter and Instragram, they show you who you follow, they don't bait you with shit that's designed to get you wasting the day arguing. They're about creativity and having a good time. That's what the internet should be.
Thanks for reading!