Monongahela Incline

Monongahela Incline, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA
Monongahela Incline, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA

The great steel city of Pittsburgh is built at the confluence of two rivers with Native American names – the Monongahela and the Allegheny.

The south bank of the Monongahela is precipitous and coal-bearing, useful for supplying the expanding industries but impractical for residential development until engineers adapted mining technology to construct what Americans call “inclines”, steep cable-hauled lifts for both passengers and freight.

Ultimately there were seventeen of these useful facilities, though not all of them operated at the same time:  List of inclines in Pittsburgh – Wikipedia.

The two survivors – located almost a mile apart – are the Monongahela (1870) and Duquesne (1877) Inclines.  They were both included in the National Register of Historic Places and designated Historic Mechanical Engineering Landmarks in the 1970s and serve the convenience of local residents as well as giving benefit to tourists seeking a spectacular view of the city’s central business district, the Golden Triangle.

The two Castle Shannon Inclines (1890/1892) originated from coalmining infrastructure but most were purpose-built, often encouraged by German-Americans who remembered the stanseilbahnen [cable railways] in their native country.

The Monongahela Incline was designed by the Prussian-born engineer John J Endres, assisted by his daughter Caroline (1846-1930) who is regarded as the first female engineer in the USA, and who married her father’s Hungarian-born assistant, Samuel Diescher (1839-1915).  She designed the Mount Oliver Incline (1871) and he was responsible for at least eight of the other Pittsburgh inclines, including the Duquesne Incline.

Both the surviving inclines served freight.  John Endres and Samuel Diescher designed a separate Monongahela Freight Incline on 10ft-gauge track.  It opened in 1880 and operated until road improvements rendered it redundant.  It closed in 1935 and its track-bed is visible alongside the existing passenger track.

Visitors to Pittsburgh find the Monogahela Incline easier to reach, across the Smithfield Bridge from downtown and past the Station Square shopping centre.  It’s adjacent to the Light Rapid Transit station at Station Square:  Welcome to the Monongahela Incline’s Flowpage.

The Duquesne Incline was rescued in 1963 by what became the Society for the Preservation of the Duquesne Heights Incline and has been restored back to its original condition:  Official site of the Duquesne Incline.

Redmires Conduit

Redmires Conduit, Sheffield at Tetney Road © Calvin Payne

The Sheffield Waterworks Company is most remembered for the collapse of the company’s Dale Dike Dam, which inundated the Loxley and Don Valleys, killing at least 250 people in March 1864.

But for this catastrophe the company might be celebrated for its enterprise in bringing fresh drinking water to the town, following its incorporation in 1830.

The oldest of all the water-supply reservoirs that served Sheffield is still in water.  The Old Great Dam of 1785 is now the lake in Crookes Valley Park.

The Sheffield Waterworks Company first built Hadfield Reservoir west of Sheffield at Crookes in 1833.  In response to inexorable continuing demand, three additional reservoirs opened at Redmires, far out of town, in 1836, 1849 and 1854.

The Redmires water was carried to Crookes by a conduit begun in 1836, running for 4½ miles mostly in the open, with a thirty-foot-high aqueduct (demolished after 1950) across the Tapton valley and a 1,200-foot tunnel, three feet in diameter, at the lower end.

Calvin Payne, whose explorations of Sheffield’s buried utilities are well-known through his “Drainspotting” walks, began to explore the conduit in 2023 and enlisted members of the Sheffield History forum.

Calvin has shown that it’s possible to explore much of the conduit’s line and has collaborated with Wobbly Runner, a highly skilled videographer, to reveal that this prodigious engineering undertaking for its date has largely survived, hidden in plain sight, for nearly two hundred years. 

Video technology provides the tools to mix maps and aerial photographs, drone imagery and commentary in a permanent record that’s a valuable legacy for the future:  Hidden in Plain Sight: The 19th-Century Water Channel That Still Crosses Sheffield’s Hills.

The South Yorkshire Local Heritage List description provides a succinct summary of the conduit’s history, together with images and a map showing the surviving lengths of its course:  Sheffield Water Works Company conduit remains – Sheffield History Chat – Sheffield History – Sheffield Memories.

The conduit was used for water supply until 1909, and the Hadfield Reservoir was replaced by a covered reservoir on part of the site in 1950.  The remainder of its area now provides facilities for the Sheffield Waterworks Sports Club.

Its visible presence is limited to the names nearby of Reservoir Road and Conduit Road.

It’s ironic that one of the most significant features of Sheffield’s infrastructure is largely unknown to local inhabitants and visitors.  It deserves signposting, interpreting and commemorating, as part of the city’s heritage and a resource for people to explore and enjoy.

The Spiegelhalter Gap

Former Wickham’s Department Store, Mile End Road, London

East Londoners will be familiar with the eccentric façade of the former Wickham’s department store on the Mile End Road.

I’d seen pictures of the building repeatedly in magazines and books about London, and I was so intrigued I went out of my way to seek it out when I was in London.

The story has been told many times. 

The Wickham family ran a drapery business at 69-73 Mile End Road and in the early 1890s they persuaded their neighbour at 75, the Spiegelhalter family, to allow them to expand by moving to 81 Mile End Road.

The Spiegelhalters were German immigrants who arrived in the East End in 1828 and prospered as clockmakers and jewellers.  Otto Spiegelhalter (1845-1902) and his wife Emilia raised fifteen children, of whom three sons carried on the business after his death.  Their family presence on the Mile End Road had powerful emotional significance for their extended family.

A generation later, after the First World War when the Spiegelhalter family changed its name to Salter, the Wickhams, intending to build a store to rival Selfridges, had taken over the entire block except number 81, which the Salters insisted on keeping.

The Wickhams commissioned T Jay Evans & Son to design a grand classical building to fill the entire block without waiting for the Salters to agree to move out.

The result was that the Wickhams’ building was constructed around the little three-storey jewellery shop and so both facades remain to this day.

Wickhams had sold out to Great Universal Stores in 1951 and the Mile End Road business closed in the 1960s.  The Salter family, still using the Spiegelhalter name for business purposes, closed their shop in 1981.  It became an off-licence, and in due course became derelict.

Sinead Campbell provides more detail in this article –  Wickham’s Department Store: The Harrods of the East End – and there is more history of the Spiegelhalter/Salter family at Shop | Spiegelhalter Family History | Yorkbeach.

The entire complex is now Dept W of Queen Mary University, for which the architects of the refurbishment, Buckley Gray Yeoman (BGY), were persuaded by popular demand to retain the Spiegelhalter façade, behind which nothing original remains:  Council backs controversial plans for East End oddity.

There’s a curious anomaly about the stand-off that led to this landmark.

The colonnades on each side of the central tower of the Wickham store have seven bays with six columns, and the Spiegelhalter shop breaks the continuity at the junction with Wickhams’ entrance.

It’s clear that, once construction started, even if the Salters had relented and sold their property, the Wickhams had no way of incorporating no 81 without destroying the symmetry of their imposing façade.

Diplomacy, the art of handling affairs without arousing hostility, requires compromise.  We see in present-day global affairs how obduracy makes it impossible to arrive at a solution that satisfies all parties.

69-89 Mile End Road stands as a mute, subtle reminder that resistance to taking account of others satisfies no-one.

As Winston Churchill repeatedly said (apparently borrowing the phrase from Arthur Balfour), “jaw-jaw is better than war-war”.

Save Derby Hippodrome?

Hippodrome Theatre, Derby – seating newly reupholstered (1993)
Hippodrome Theatre, Derby – seating newly reupholstered (1993)
Hippodrome Theatre, Derby (June 2015)
Hippodrome Theatre, Derby (June 2015)
Hippodrome Theatre, Derby (August 2025)
Hippodrome Theatre, Derby (August 2025)

Sometimes, when news breaks of a historic building been damaged or lost by corporate vandalism I think the UK’s legislative protection for heritage is unfit for purpose.

That’s not actually true.  It could work if it was applied seriously:  Demolition Of Listed Buildings: Is It Legal? – Christopher David Design – Architecture & Design Solutions In Surrey.

A restricted form of protection for ancient monuments has existed in England and Wales since 1882 but the widespread destruction of towns and cities in the Second World War triggered the Town and Country Planning Act, 1947 providing blanket protection to listed buildings.

There are potentially severe penalties for damaging, destroying or carrying out unauthorised works on a listed building:  a Crown Court can impose an unlimited fine and/or two years in prison, and can issue a confiscation order to reclaim profits made from the offence.

The greatest threat to heritage buildings is, inevitably, money – the shortage of public money and the excess of corporate and private fortunes.

A league table of heritage-crime offences up to 2018 indicates that even the heaviest “unlimited” fines are pocket money to property developers and affluent private individuals:  HISTORIC BUILDINGS PROSECUTION FINES.

Local authorities, starved of funds for over fifteen years, struggle to preserve education, adult social care and housing and much else.  Preservation of old buildings comes a long way down their priorities.

Marie Clements’, the Victorian Society’s Communications and Media Manager, highlights the lack of staff to protect threatened buildings in one of the nation’s largest cities, Birmingham:  News from the Victorian Society | Heritage skills crisis in local government.

One of the most instructive controversies over a building that remained intact until less than twenty years ago is the Derby Hippodrome, which earned its keep from opening as a theatre in 1914 until it closed as a bingo club in 2007, the year after it was listed Grade II.

It was acquired by Mr Christopher Anthony who after a small fire proceeded to repair the damage by taking an excavator to the roof:  Bringing the house down | Mike Higginbottom Interesting Times.  Mr Anthony was eventually awarded a conditional discharge after admitting ordering work on the building without permission, and later went into administration.

The theatre has ever since stood open to the elements while well-meaning bodies made repeated attempts to set up a restoration programme, led by the Derby Hippodrome Restoration Trust (formed in 2010), joined later by the Derbyshire Historic Buildings Trust and the Theatres Trust, and overseen by Derby City Council.

These efforts were hampered by the difficulty of identifying the building’s current owners.

Companies House lists businesses trading with the name Christopher or Chris Anthony but no such individual of that name is listed:  CHRISTOPHER ANTHONY PROPERTY SERVICES LIMITED people – Find and update company information – GOV.UK

Blake Finance Ltd is repeatedly mentioned in the local press as being responsible for the Hippodrome, but the actual connection with the Derby Hippodrome is opaque:  Hippodrome Theatre: Urgent works notice needs to be served on owner but who is that? | Derbyshire Live.

A succession of fires in May 2025 prompted Derby City Council to undertake a rapid, radical demolition of the remains of the proscenium and front stalls on safety grounds.

Historic England, the Derby Hippodrome Restoration Trust, Derby Civic Society and Derbyshire Historic Buildings Trust challenged this action within forty-eight hours, and work stopped.

An urban explorer, MotionlessMike, has posted a collection of images from May 2023 to show how much of the building remained until the recent series of what many believe were arson attacks:  Report – – Derby Hippodrome – The End (2025) | Theatres and Cinemas | 28DaysLater Urban Exploring Forums.

Contributors to the Save Derby Hippodrome Facebook stream [SAVE DERBY HIPPODROME | Facebook] include individuals who clearly understand the technicalities of demolition and neighbours who witnessed the successive demolitions that have overtaken the structure.

There’s a comprehensive survey and discussion of the Hippodrome scandal by John Forkin at And so, the Derby Hippodrome may soon be no more… – Marketing Derby.

And so the remnants of this Grade-II listed once fully restorable theatre remain, and its supporters are yet trying to find a way of saving them:  Theatre at Risk Derby Hippodrome demolished.

Second Lieutenant Iowerth Ap Roland Owen (1896-1917)

Family tomb of Iorwerth ap Roland Owen (1896-1917), Anfield Cemetery, Liverpool

Walking through Liverpool’s Anfield Cemetery, I noticed a neat monument topped by a Gothic spire, commemorating the Owen family, on which one panel of the square base carries a carved portrait of their airman son Iowerth Ap Roland who was killed in action in 1917.

The magic of Google connected me with the research of Louise McTigue, who in its early days contributed to the informative blog of the funeral directors Sarsfield Memorials Liverpool:  Blog – Sarsfield Memorials LiverpoolSarsfield Memorials Liverpool | The Oldest Family Run Monumental Masons In Liverpool.

Iowerth’s father Dr Roland Owen came from Anglesey but he and his wife Margaret lived in Seaforth on the northern edge of Liverpool.

Iowerth joined the Officers’ Training Corps at his public school, Mill Hill, and though he intended to qualify in medicine at London University he put his studies on hold in 1915, joined the Inns of Court OTC and applied for a commission in the Royal Flying Corps where he was awarded his wings after six months’ training.

He immediately left for France and on the morning of May 7th 1917 he set off on a photo-reconnaissance mission from Savy airfield to Arras where he and his observer Air Mechanic Reginald Hickling were overpowered by five German planes.

It seems that Reginald Hickling was killed instantly, yet Iowerth Owen, though he was shot in the head and chest, managed to land the plane successfully before passing out.  He was bundled into an ambulance but died without regaining consciousness.  He was twenty.  He served in France for less than a month.

The two British airmen’s nemesis was a protégé of Manfred von Richthofen, the “Red Baron”. Leutnant Karl Allmenröder in a short career as a fighter pilot claimed thirty victories before he himself was shot down on June 26th 1917 aged twenty-one.  He too was a medical student.

Iowerth Owen is buried in St Catherine’s British Military Cemetery, Arras, and commemorated on his parents’ memorial in Anfield. 

Reginald Hickling, a policeman’s son who worked as a gardener, was buried at Albuera Cemetery at Bailleul-Sire-Berthoult in the Pas de Calais.  He was aged 29.  A week after his funeral his brother Frederick, a Quartermaster Sergeant in the 2/8th Worcestershire Regiment, was mentioned in dispatches.

Karl Allmenröder was buried in the Evangelical Cemetery, Wald, Germany.  His reputation as an air ace encouraged the Nazi government to name streets after him.  All these streets were renamed after 1945 and he has no public memorial.

In a time of peace these three men would have lived their lives without harming anyone.  Indeed, in their different ways they’d have made the world a better place.

Their contemporary Wilfred Owen (1893-1918) called this waste of humanity “The old Lie:  Dulce et decorum est/Pro patria mori” – “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country”.

Nottingham Playhouse

Nottingham Playhouse

When I visited Nottingham Playhouse recently to see my friend Andrea in a superlative production of Aaron Sorkin’s play based on Harper Lee’s novel To Kill a Mockingbird [To Kill A Mockingbird] I felt an immediate sense of nostalgia when I entered the auditorium.

When the Playhouse opened in 1963 I was in the middle of my grammar-school education and by the time we reached the sixth form the following year our English teachers had formed a rota to take us by coach once a month on a Friday evening to see whatever was on in the Playhouse’s opening seasons which were directed principally by John Neville (1925-2011).

Neville shared his role of artistic director at first with Frank Dunlop (b1927), who went on to found the Young Vic in 1969, and the polymathic Peter Ustinov (1921-2004).  Between them they brought to Nottingham a broad range of classic drama and a scintillating troupe of talented actors.

Therefore, in our teens, we were privileged to see – live on stage – not only John Neville’s Richard II, Oedipus and Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman, but the twenty-something Judi Dench as Margery Pinchwife in William Wycherley’s bawdy Restoration comedy The Country Wife, which had us rolling about in our front-row seats, even if some of us didn’t at first twig the pun in the title.

These opportunities were unrepeatable:  Neville resigned in 1969 because the theatre’s grant was repeatedly frozen;  nowadays theatre seat-prices are elevated beyond most school budgets, especially when big-name performers are cast.  Indeed, Nottingham Playhouse runs a laudable 50:50 Appeal, which enables audiences to donate the cost of tickets for local people who otherwise wouldn’t experience live theatre:  50:50 Appeal – Nottingham Playhouse.

I’m pleased to see that Peter Moro’s theatre, with the circular drum of the auditorium prominent above the rectilinear outer shell, has been respectfully restored:  Moro had been involved in the Royal Festival Hall project, and for Nottingham created a conventional proscenium theatre that encloses its audience so they share the same space as the actors. 

And on the night I was there the To Kill a Mockingbird tour filled every seat in the house as it storms around the country on its way to a West End run in August 2026:  TOUR — To Kill A Mockingbird.

The Abbeydale Picture House – Sheffield’s premier suburban cinema

Abbeydale Cinema, Sheffield (1977)

My latest book, The Abbeydale Picture House:  Sheffield’s premier suburban cinema, is now on sale. It’s a long story, but a short book, telling the history of a much-loved building, the people who worked there and the thousands whose lives were brightened by it from 1920 onwards.

The Abbeydale Picture House has always been exceptional among local cinemas.  Its architect, Pascal J Stienlet, designed the auditorium and stage as a theatre, so the balcony embraces the proscenium and the stage has a fly-tower and a suite of dressing rooms which I’ve come to suspect were never completed.

The building sits on the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the River Sheaf, so the space under the stage was fitted out as a billiard saloon, and the ballroom beneath the auditorium had a sprung floor and a disconcerting sloping ceiling to match the rake of the seating above.

Its original proprietors struggled in the face of post-war inflation and quickly handed the place over to a more experienced team who were involved in two other cinemas south of the city centre.

It took until the 1930s for the shareholders to receive a modest dividend, but from then till the late 1950s the Abbeydale brought in crowds to watch films, dance and play billiards.  The Abbeydale offered warmth, comfort and style.  A whole generation of local people met their life-partner under its roof.

As times changed and suburban cinemas went out of favour, it was the third last suburban cinema in Sheffield to close, in 1975.

It was quickly adapted as an office-equipment showroom, but since then attempts to find it a practical purpose have repeatedly failed, until True North Brew Co acquired it at the beginning of 2025 and made firm plans to restore and refurbish it as a multipurpose entertainment centre – which was exactly its function in the 1920s: Abbeydale Ballroom | Sheffield’s new social space | pool hall.

I’ve been involved in the Abbeydale’s heritage since the 1980s, and had the good fortune to build my knowledge on Dr Clifford Shaw’s extensive research, and on oral-history interviews carried out by a Sheffield University postgraduate student, Holly Dann, both of whom talked to people who remembered the Abbeydale since before the Second World War.

It’s arguably the only surviving first-generation cinema in Sheffield that’s physically intact, architecturally interesting and has an abundance of stories about the people for whom it was and is a landmark in their lives.

Of the fifty-two cinemas that were operating within the then city boundary in the first month of the Second World War, the Abbeydale is the only one that has so many tales to tell and has the potential to bring enjoyment to future generations of Sheffield people.

A participant on a recent Heritage Open Days tour remarked, “I’ve passed this place hundreds of times and never realised how beautiful it is.”

The Abbeydale Picture House:  Sheffield’s premier suburban cinema has 56 A5 pages in full colour.

To see sample pages, please click here.

To purchase, please click here, or send a cheque for £10.00 per copy payable to Mike Higginbottom at 63 Vivian Road, Sheffield, S5 6WJ. Contact:  0114-242-0951 or 07946-650672 or mike@mikehigginbottominterestingtimes.co.uk

Heinz Memorial Chapel

Heinz Memorial Chapel, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA

The Philadelphia architect Charles Zeller Klauder (1872-1938) demonstrated how the Gothic architectural tradition could express the dignity and function of academic architecture in his Cathedral of Learning, completed in 1937 as part of the campus of the University of Pittsburgh. 

Alongside the Cathedral in the same years he applied the same blend of historicism and modernity to design two other neo-Gothic structures for the University.

The Stephen Collins Foster Memorial (1937) provided two theatre spaces for the Department of Theatre Arts and accommodation for the Stephen Foster Memorial Museum and the Stephen Foster Collection and archive, which is regarded as particularly important because Foster’s brother Morrison Foster destroyed or dispersed many of his papers after his death.  It houses the twelve-sided Stephen Foster Shrine, which displays the composer’s sheet music and memorabilia.

Stephen Foster (1826-1864) is regarded as “the father of American music” as the composer of such minstrel songs as ‘Camptown Races’, ‘Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair’ and ‘Old Folks at Home’ (‘Swanee River’) – a mixed legacy, in which well-loved melodies are tied to lyrics that are now regarded as racially-inflected and widely disliked.

The Heinz Memorial Chapel (1938) was initially conceived by Henry John Heinz (1844-1919), the Pittsburgh-born founder of the food-processing company, as a memorial to his mother, but was extended after his death by additional bequests from his three surviving children. 

It was gifted to the University and “dedicated to culture, understanding response to beauty, and religious worship” as an interdenominational place of worship which is open to all members of the University community, employees of the H J Heinz Company and the general public.

Unlike the Cathedral of Learning, a tower which reaches 535ft into the heavens, the Heinz Memorial Chapel is a traditional cruciform church with tall, narrow proportions, many Gothic arches and pinnacles, surmounted by a fleche 256 feet above ground level.

The interior is a series of lofty French Gothic vaults, decorated with elaborate sequences of sculpture by Joseph Gattoni, and drenched in daytime by the light of predominantly blue stained glass by the prominent stained-glass artist Charles Jay Connick (1875-1945), who was responsible for the entire sequence of the chapel’s many huge windows.

The proximity of three ambitious neo-Gothic buildings in the middle of the University of Pittsburgh campus is remarkable, memorable and leaves an indelible impression, particularly on those fortunate enough to come to the city of steel and heavy industry to study.

Cathedral of Learning

Cathedral of Learning, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA
Cathedral of Learning, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA: Commons Room

The nineteenth-century Gothic Revival was influential in the USA and maintained momentum until the Second World War.

Nineteenth-century Gothic buildings were usually scholarly versions of European originals, like New York City’s Trinity Church (1846) and St Patrick’s Cathedral (1879/1888).

Subsequent neo-Gothic buildings in the States are more varied, grand and original, especially when their designs merged with the quintessentially American invention of the skyscraper.

I’ve been fortunate to enjoy the Woolworth Building (1913) and Riverside Church (1929) in New York City, Grace Cathedral (1924-64) in San Francisco and the Tribune Tower (1922-25) in Chicago, but the richest, most fascinating, downright peculiar example of American Gothic I know is the Cathedral of Learning in Pittsburgh.

This astonishing structure is a 42-storey tower containing lecture facilities, research and library areas and study and social facilities for the University of Pittsburgh. Its construction took from 1926 to 1937.

It was the brain-child of John Gabbert Bowman (1877-1962), chancellor of the university 1921-45, who envisaged a landmark building dominating the city:  “…more than a schoolhouse; it was to be a symbol of the life that Pittsburgh through the years had wanted to live”.

He commissioned Charles Zeller Klauder (1872-1938), one of the foremost American architects of his generation who continued to develop the neo-Gothic style in the age of Art Deco.

On land given by the banker and industrialist Andrew William Mellon (1855-1937), Charles Klauder created a monumental building that fulfilled all the requisite criteria – ample space for a multiplicity of purposes, a powerful impact on the Pittsburgh townscape and a rich source of imaginative art and craftsmanship.

The most awe-inspiring space in the Cathedral is the four-storey Commons [sic] Room, 52 feet high and covering half an acre of floor-space, where students are guaranteed quiet for private study.  The Perpendicular Gothic columns and vaults are functioning masonry arches, independent of the steel frame which supports the higher storeys.

The first and third floors surrounding the Commons Room are largely given over to the Nationality Rooms that John G Bowman handed over in 1926 to representatives of the nationalities that made up Pittsburgh’s diverse communities.  Each community was responsible for the entire cost of fitting out the rooms, after which the University undertook to maintain them in perpetuity.

The English Room, for example, is decorated with materials rescued from the bombed House of Commons at the end of the Second World War.  It was dedicated in 1952, and contains portraits of Andrew Mellon and William Pitt, the Prime Minster after whom the city is named.  Separate classrooms are dedicated to Wales, Scotland and Ireland.

The Turkish Room includes a large ceramic portrait of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder and first president of the Republic of Turkey, instructing his people about the Turkish alphabet introduced in 1928 in place of the Arabic script.

There are currently thirty-one Nationality Rooms, from African Heritage to Yugoslavia, of which all but two are functioning classrooms.  Most of them still have blackboards, though the Korean Room, dedicated in 2015, was the first to instal an LED screen and central speaker system.

Detailed descriptions of all the Nationality Rooms can be found at Nationality Rooms – Wikipedia.

The highest level of the tower available to the public is the Federick Honors College on the 35th and 36th floors.  The views are spectacular.

The Cathedral of Learning is freely accessible to members of the public.  I ate chicken nuggets and fries in the student refectory in the basement.  You can’t always do that at British cathedrals of learning.

Sheffield’s sewer gas destructors

Webb’s sewer gas destructor, Monckton Road, Wincobank, Sheffield

The Victorian preoccupation with sanitation was at least as significant in its time as the current concern about climate change and global warning is in the twenty-first century.

For decades I’ve been giving lectures and organising tours under the titles ‘Victorian Cemeteries’ and ‘Victorian Sewerage’ to illustrate the spectacular achievements of the Sanitary Movement but the topic is actually much wider than water supply, sewage disposal, cemeteries and crematoria.

It embraces such matters as awareness of hygiene, the development of cheap mass-produced soap, the water-closet, public lavatories and communal baths, improvements to hospitals and medical practice, vaccination, street lighting and paving, and garbage collection.  It’s a huge topic which we tend to take for granted.

I’m presenting my ‘Victorian Sewerage’ lecture to the Friends of Zion Graveyard on Monday evening, October 20th, at the Upper Wincobank Undenominational Chapel, Wincobank Avenue, Sheffield, S5 6BB, when I’ll illustrate the Grade-II listed sewer gas destructors nearby – gas lamps with a sanitary purpose.

The installation of public sewers in nineteenth-century towns and cities was a huge public benefit, but it wasn’t a perfect solution.  Tons of human ordure trickling underground to the sewage farms made their presence felt as vapours rose from the drains into the atmosphere at ground level, and methane in the sewers could in some circumstances cause explosions.

A Birmingham engineer, Joseph Edmund Webb (1862-1936), first patented his sewer gas destructor in 1892, connecting a conventional street lighting column to the sewer system rather than the town gas supply, so that sewer gas was ignited by the flame, at a temperature of around 700°F, destroying the methane and its persistent smell.

The amount of methane released sometimes failed to keep the lamp lit, until Webb’s subsequent patents provided for a back-up town-gas supply, and a system of filters and traps ensured that the flame remained lit twenty-four hours a day.

Ten local authorities had ordered destructors by 1896 and subsequently the company supplied towns and cities not only in Britain but to France, Spain, Canada, India and Singapore.

Because Sheffield’s hilly terrain meant that underground gradients could trap gas and cause dangerous concentrations of methane, the city installed eighty-four Webb destructor lamps, more apparently than any other public authority.

These unregarded public-health assets were gradually superseded by the practice of fitting ventilator stack pipes to buildings, venting the gas to the atmosphere at a sufficient height for it not to be a nuisance, and gas street-lights eventually gave place to electric lamps.

Sheffield’s Webb destructor lamps were disconnected from the gas supply in the 1960s, yet four in the Nether Edge area were restored as a heritage feature in the 1990s.

By the millennium only twenty-four survived, in various states of neglect, and twenty of them were listed Grade II and restored by a partnership of Sheffield City Council, English Heritage, Historic England and the bespoke lantern manufacturer, Pudsey Diamond Engineering Ltd.

No other British city has such a splendid collection of listed sewer lamps.

The listed lamps are once more a source of local pride as street furniture and they add to the public stock of harmless pleasure for those who wish to attempt The 6 Gas Lamps Race – Run Times or cycle past all twenty-four.

I’m grateful to Penny Rae, who invited me to speak to the Friends of Zion Graveyard, for alerting me to the two sewer lamps on the road from Shiregreen to Meadowhall which, to my shame, I’d never noticed before, though I’ve driven past them hundreds of times.