Budget bashing
Recently the city council announced Manchester Town Hall’s refurbishment won’t be completed until spring 2027.
The council said: 'The project completion has now been set for spring 2027. This is later than the previous estimated date, but with more certainty. To overcome the final obstacles, a budget increase of £95 million will be required, taking the overall project budget to £524.8 million. As well as existing costs, the increased budget includes a substantial to contingency to support a spring 2027 completion.'
In other words the refurbishment will have taken as long as the initial build time from 1868 to 1877. By way of excuse the council said: '(The) Town Hall is the largest and most complex heritage project undertaken in living memory anywhere in the UK.'
The jump from £330m to £524.8m is huge although it should be remembered that the budget for Manchester Town Hall in the 1860s was over £400,000 but the final account was around £1m. So, proportionally larger.
The mayor at the time, Abel Heywood, made no apology for the doubling of the budget.
'We cleared a vast area, and Mr Waterhouse’s beautiful design rose, stone on stone and pillar on pillar. We spared no expense. Every detail we desired to have perfect. To have been parsimonious, to have neglected corners or recesses which were obscure, to have allowed ornamentation which was tawdry, would have been for ever to brand Manchester as a city given up to no higher thought than the quickest accumulation of wealth.'
So while we have to wait a little longer to see the whole building we can however gaze fondly at Manchester Town Hall tower.
The Gothic flamboyance of the 288ft tower is, in a city with a developing skyline, the lodestone, the solid bond between Victorian past and uncertain present.
But we're lucky to have it. And the one we nearly got was terrible.
The architect of both towers, the actual one and the proposed one, was Alfred Waterhouse. He's renowned for many city and UK buildings – the University, Strangeways Prison and the Natural History Museum in London.
Waterhouse was largely unknown in the city where he made his reputation until pub chain Wetherspoons came along and named a boozer on Princess Street after him. This is amusing because, as a Quaker, Waterhouse didn’t touch the demon drink.
Recently the city council announced Manchester Town Hall’s refurbishment won’t be completed until spring 2027.
The council said: 'The project completion has now been set for spring 2027. This is later than the previous estimated date, but with more certainty. To overcome the final obstacles, a budget increase of £95 million will be required, taking the overall project budget to £524.8 million. As well as existing costs, the increased budget includes a substantial to contingency to support a spring 2027 completion.'
In other words the refurbishment will have taken as long as the initial build time from 1868 to 1877. By way of excuse the council said: '(The) Town Hall is the largest and most complex heritage project undertaken in living memory anywhere in the UK.'
The jump from £330m to £524.8m is huge although it should be remembered that the budget for Manchester Town Hall in the 1860s was over £400,000 but the final account was around £1m. So, proportionally larger.
The mayor at the time, Abel Heywood, made no apology for the doubling of the budget.
'We cleared a vast area, and Mr Waterhouse’s beautiful design rose, stone on stone and pillar on pillar. We spared no expense. Every detail we desired to have perfect. To have been parsimonious, to have neglected corners or recesses which were obscure, to have allowed ornamentation which was tawdry, would have been for ever to brand Manchester as a city given up to no higher thought than the quickest accumulation of wealth.'
So while we have to wait a little longer to see the whole building we can however gaze fondly at Manchester Town Hall tower.
The Gothic flamboyance of the 288ft tower is, in a city with a developing skyline, the lodestone, the solid bond between Victorian past and uncertain present.
But we're lucky to have it. And the one we nearly got was terrible.
The architect of both towers, the actual one and the proposed one, was Alfred Waterhouse. He's renowned for many city and UK buildings – the University, Strangeways Prison and the Natural History Museum in London.
Waterhouse was largely unknown in the city where he made his reputation until pub chain Wetherspoons came along and named a boozer on Princess Street after him. This is amusing because, as a Quaker, Waterhouse didn’t touch the demon drink.
Waterhouse's original design
St Valentine gets the tower wrong
Waterhouse seems to have entered the 1867 competition to design Manchester Town Hall late and in a rush. Entries had to be anonymous. Waterhouse monikered his design St Valentine as that was the date in 1868 when a winner would be announced.
The hasty nature of his design explains why in terms of looks it came fourth. But in its practical use of the awkward triangular site and its internal arrangement it won hands down. Ever practical, the Victorian mindset dictated the most useful not the most fanciful design should be chosen.
The big problem with Waterhouse's proposal was the whole arrangement of the tower, spire and entrance. The judges did the equivalent of tapping their finger on the drawings and saying, “Alfie, boy, that’s no good, you’ll have to change it.”
Look at our picture in the attachments: that strange dome thing on the top is a weedy weak thing, as though Waterhouse had scribbled it in 15 minutes before the deadline.
So he drew it again and produced a proper pointy spire. Then he reduced the heaviness of the spire by drawing it as a filigree of delicate stone tracery. Still unhappy with this latest solution he finally redrew it with the spire we see today, punched with four leaf 'quatrefoil' holes.
But something kept nagging at him and six years into construction as the Town Hall neared completion, he suspended work. He called the building committee together and explained that the proportions were still wrong and the tower needed to be 16ft higher. The committee agreed despite the added cost.
The entrance to the tower and the building was annoying him too. We can’t see this until the 2027 reveal but he finally settled on a large openwork screen over the entrance which made the latter look bigger and more in proportion with the tower above. It also cleverly reflected the shape in plan of the Town Hall and was capped off with a sculpture of the Roman general Agricola who founded Manchester. Thus the entrance to the Town Hall marks the origin (the entrance into history) of the city. Neat.
Waterhouse seems to have entered the 1867 competition to design Manchester Town Hall late and in a rush. Entries had to be anonymous. Waterhouse monikered his design St Valentine as that was the date in 1868 when a winner would be announced.
The hasty nature of his design explains why in terms of looks it came fourth. But in its practical use of the awkward triangular site and its internal arrangement it won hands down. Ever practical, the Victorian mindset dictated the most useful not the most fanciful design should be chosen.
The big problem with Waterhouse's proposal was the whole arrangement of the tower, spire and entrance. The judges did the equivalent of tapping their finger on the drawings and saying, “Alfie, boy, that’s no good, you’ll have to change it.”
Look at our picture in the attachments: that strange dome thing on the top is a weedy weak thing, as though Waterhouse had scribbled it in 15 minutes before the deadline.
So he drew it again and produced a proper pointy spire. Then he reduced the heaviness of the spire by drawing it as a filigree of delicate stone tracery. Still unhappy with this latest solution he finally redrew it with the spire we see today, punched with four leaf 'quatrefoil' holes.
But something kept nagging at him and six years into construction as the Town Hall neared completion, he suspended work. He called the building committee together and explained that the proportions were still wrong and the tower needed to be 16ft higher. The committee agreed despite the added cost.
The entrance to the tower and the building was annoying him too. We can’t see this until the 2027 reveal but he finally settled on a large openwork screen over the entrance which made the latter look bigger and more in proportion with the tower above. It also cleverly reflected the shape in plan of the Town Hall and was capped off with a sculpture of the Roman general Agricola who founded Manchester. Thus the entrance to the Town Hall marks the origin (the entrance into history) of the city. Neat.
The second attempt
The finished article
Climbing the tower
I have in the past taken people up to the top of the tower. Apparently the city council are going to start tours again when the building refurbishment is complete. They should.
On the trip there are many joys. A highlight is the room where the original clock mechanism resides. This is a phantasmagoria of immense brass wheels with clunky levers and gears clicking and whirring. Higher again is the chamber behind the clock faces, with the 6ft hour and 9ft minute hands silhouetted against the sky. There was an excellent BBC programme earlier this year about the restoration of the clock.
From the balcony the views north, south, east and west are superb. Despite all the fancy detail, the gargoyles, the curlicues and finials, there's no more solid space in Manchester. This was one of the key qualities of Alfred Waterhouse. He was the master of the robust. He could do fancy when required but his talent lay in solidity, making buildings that feel as though they will never fall down. When you’re 200ft up, that’s a valuable and comforting quality.
Stand in Albert Square and if you have eagle eyes or a pair of binoculars you might see golden words high on the town hall. On three sides of the protruding gables above the clocks there are two words. Put these together and they read, 'Teach Us To Number Our Days', a Biblical quote advising us to make the most of our lives. Carpe diem and all that.
The main lantern chamber holds Great Abel, the hour bell of Manchester Town Hall, which is bigger than a generous three-man tent and is named after the mayor quoted above – Abel Heywood. Cast round the top are lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem ‘In Memoriam’. They read ‘Ring out the false, ring in the true.'
A worthy sentiment but one to make a writer’s eyes water.
A cheeky moment or two or three
For a while in about 2015 I had a key to a little door on the third floor of the Town Hall. This led to the fabulously moody spiral staircase up the tower. I was supposed to use this key solely to provide access when taking in groups. I cheated.
On lovely days I would tell security I wanted to check some element of the tower or the clock mechanism or the bells. I would then climb to the balcony high above the city, find a convenient perch, dig out a book from my bag and spend a happy hour reading. I might have even taken some refreshment with me. Up to you to guess the nature of that refreshment.
I have in the past taken people up to the top of the tower. Apparently the city council are going to start tours again when the building refurbishment is complete. They should.
On the trip there are many joys. A highlight is the room where the original clock mechanism resides. This is a phantasmagoria of immense brass wheels with clunky levers and gears clicking and whirring. Higher again is the chamber behind the clock faces, with the 6ft hour and 9ft minute hands silhouetted against the sky. There was an excellent BBC programme earlier this year about the restoration of the clock.
From the balcony the views north, south, east and west are superb. Despite all the fancy detail, the gargoyles, the curlicues and finials, there's no more solid space in Manchester. This was one of the key qualities of Alfred Waterhouse. He was the master of the robust. He could do fancy when required but his talent lay in solidity, making buildings that feel as though they will never fall down. When you’re 200ft up, that’s a valuable and comforting quality.
Stand in Albert Square and if you have eagle eyes or a pair of binoculars you might see golden words high on the town hall. On three sides of the protruding gables above the clocks there are two words. Put these together and they read, 'Teach Us To Number Our Days', a Biblical quote advising us to make the most of our lives. Carpe diem and all that.
The main lantern chamber holds Great Abel, the hour bell of Manchester Town Hall, which is bigger than a generous three-man tent and is named after the mayor quoted above – Abel Heywood. Cast round the top are lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem ‘In Memoriam’. They read ‘Ring out the false, ring in the true.'
A worthy sentiment but one to make a writer’s eyes water.
A cheeky moment or two or three
For a while in about 2015 I had a key to a little door on the third floor of the Town Hall. This led to the fabulously moody spiral staircase up the tower. I was supposed to use this key solely to provide access when taking in groups. I cheated.
On lovely days I would tell security I wanted to check some element of the tower or the clock mechanism or the bells. I would then climb to the balcony high above the city, find a convenient perch, dig out a book from my bag and spend a happy hour reading. I might have even taken some refreshment with me. Up to you to guess the nature of that refreshment.
The view from the top over a previous Christmas market
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