Heaton and Armstrong Parks and Jesmond Dene, now known collectively as Ouseburn Parks, are amongst the finest green spaces in the city, or indeed any city, and much loved by locals and visitors alike. But have they changed much over time? We’ve been digging around in the archives and listening to the reminiscences of some older residents.
In the 1870s the population of the East End of Newcastle was growing rapidly and a need for additional recreational space was recognised but, in a comment that resonates today, on 16 May 1879, the Journal wrote:
Owing to the difficulty in obtaining land… and owing also to the jealousies amongst the representatives of the different wards of the town in the Corporation and also to the general unwillingness to expend the funds of the Corporation upon such an object, the movement for a long time made no progress Journal , 16 May 1879
However in 1878, when Addison Potter of Heaton Hall put some land up for sale, the Corporation bought 22.5 acres at a cost of £12,562 and William Armstrong gave a similar amount to enable a 46 acre park to be created.
Opening
Just a year later, the southernmost portion of the new park, that purchased by the corporation, had been landscaped with new ‘walks and drives’ and in a scheme which:
has afforded most acceptable employment to many men who had been thrown out of employment during the very severe winter
a new road was built to allow access to the park from Byker. This still to be named ‘new road’ later became Heaton Park Road.
The new ‘Armstrong or East End Park’ was officially opened on 12 June 1879 on a day locally observed as a holiday. The mayor assured the assembled school children that:
one object which the Parks Committee had in view was to give them as much play-ground as possible, so that they could romp free from the interference of the police or anyone else.
Changes
There have been many alterations to the park over the subsequent 135 years or so, some of which we can see from looking at old photographs like those below: the bear set free from (or more likely died in) its pit by the lake, the lake filled in, the croquet lawn converted to a bowling green (which itself is now no more), the ‘temple’ claimed by its original owners, the Ridley family, and removed to Blagdon, the park-keeper’s cottage demolished, the large pavilion burnt down and a replica subsequently constructed and famously the old bowls pavilion burnt down by suffragettes.
Heaton Park in literature
We can also learn from the writings of Jack Common, a frequent visitor to the park. In his autobiographical novel ‘Kiddar’s Luck’, he wrote about the first and second decade of the twentieth century:
The far side of Heaton Road for a stretch broke into the great rookery of Heaton Hall; and behind Heaton Hall grounds, along one side of the Ouseburn Valley, lay two parks, both public and continuous, except for the slight interruption of a leafy stone-walled lane.
and
The parade wound by two bowling greens, mathematical swards scribbled on by tree-shadows, and watched by a terrace on which stood a huge aviary holding up the dial of a southward facing clock, flower beds of painfully formal calceolaria, scarlet geranium, lobelia, or a sort of clay boil bursting through turf to shatter into certified bush roses.
Memories
But there is much that has never been officially recorded and this is where the recollections of park users are invaluable. We have been interviewing local people to fill in some of these gaps and Heaton Park is almost always a topic which prompts a host of early memories.
Norman Pretswell, who lived at 9 Cardigan Terrace from 1928, recalled the 1930s:
The pavilion, of course, with the pigeons in one side, the old men on the other side. The old fellahs used to sit and play dominos or whatever. It used to stink of tobacco, especially pipes. I don’t remember any exotic birds. I only remember the pigeons. It used to be full of pigeons, roosting and nesting. They could fly in and out whenever they wanted…
We’d play in the bushes where you weren’t supposed to go. There was a park-keeper in those days. He had a whistle and a stick and he’d wave the stick and blow his whistle if he saw you in the bushes. Of course we used to go in the bushes for hide and seek…
In Armstrong Park, we’d play near the windmill and the cannons that were near where the tennis courts are now. We’d play on them…
And when you went through Armstrong Park, there was a little cafe, not far from the entrance where you left Heaton Park and went into Armstrong park, there was a little cafe there. Very dark and dismal. The fellah who served was quite short… he could hardly see over the counter. We’d go in. It was a bit of a thrill. It was just so dark and gloomy. I never seemed to go there when there was a light on. We’d go in for lemonade, sasparilla. Dandelion and burdock was my favourite.
John Dixon who lived at 155 Heaton Park Road in the 1950s and 60s also remembered the park-keepers:
As you go through the Heaton Park Road gates on the left, there was a wooden stand and they used to ring the bell. There were other bells in the park. They used to ring it half an hour before the park closed because they used to lock all the gates…
The park keepers wore a sort of uniform, which was a military style cap, blue serge two-piece suit, a collar and tie, a gabardine coat when it was wet and they had a whistle and a stick and if you transgressed, which it was very easy to upset them, they used to blow their whistle at you.
There were swings, a slide, wooden swings which were lethal. The seats were like inch thick planks… the swing would come back and hit you on the back of head. My mate, we had to take him to the RVI to get his head stitched. It really burst it. Lucky he didn’t fracture his skull.
What do you remember?
We are hoping to collect more memories of Heaton’s parks. If you can add to our knowledge, have any photographs which illustrate the changes or would just like to share your stories, please leave them here (Click on the link just below the article title) or email chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org
Heaton Park
There were houses – lodges – at some entrances, for the superintendent or ranger or whoever, of which few now exist; nearest to me in Tintern was the one at the wonderful entrance by the library.
There were the big iron gates of course, which, as has been mentioned, would be locked at night. What an utterly pointless exercise: anyone wishing to access the park simply had to climb up a lamppost alongside the wall down at the bottom by the burn road or to the side of the bisecting lane up to Heaton Road, then hop over: piece of cake – I did it all the time.
There were water fountains here and there: large bowls atop pedestals of zinc-iron, some with a chromed lever, some a white ceramic domed button stating Drinking Water, both with a curving spout of H2O that could be accurately jetted in anyone’s direction given the appropriate use of a thumb over the nozzle.
There was a giant chessboard in the lawn alongside a little hut (for storing the pieces) that was in front of the electricity-board substation on the Heaton Park View south edge of the park.
Between that and the Shaftsbury entrance there was yet another bowling green (how many bowling greens did we have?) a public toilet behind the bowler’s hut (Gentlemen, of course!), and to the side was one of the aforementioned fountains.
On the flat plateau in the middle of Heaton Park we had a ‘Witches Hat’ roundabout, a stainless-steel sheathed slide (we found it could be further improved by polishing it up with candle-wax), a set of Monkey Bars, and some excellent swings that went very high – high enough to break plenty bones if you came off; and yes: more than capable of putting a miserable dint in the skull of any dozy wazzack who got in the way!
It was from this plateau that we would launch our sledges in snowy times – it was the steepest/longest bank in Heaton Park – and attempt to reach the bottom wall; assuming you didn’t hit a tree first.
Down in the farthest corner of the park was/is a paddling pool that I never saw filled but my Father used to plodge about in as a child.
In the south-east corner of the paved area fronting the pavilion was a small, white, wood-hut satellite of Gracco’s ice-cream parlour on Heaton Road; nougat-and-chocolate-wafer oysters seemed to be the order of the day down there.
I’ll leave it at that, because the entire parade from the Vale culvet through to the South Gosforth wilderness was my jealously guarded, much patrolled empire, and it would take a month of Sundays to speak of all the attractions beyond St John’s Palace with its shady tennis court and [sadly] recently destroyed boulder-hill for serious climbing adventures; plus another bowling green and hut. Have you counted them all yet?
Brilliant, Keith. John mentioned the witch’s hat and Gracco’s hut too. We’ve only used extracts of his comments here. I hope your vivid description will encourage him and others to add further memories.
Norman Moore sent us his memories:
I almost lived in Heaton and Armstrong Parks. We frequently remained until closing time and even beyond – I recall one evening when we played football until it was dark and were chased by the park-keeper and had to climb over a wall to escape because the gates were locked (I was first over the wall). Another time we arrived home very late to find not only our families but most of the neighbours out looking for us – a few minutes later and the police would have been called. This resulted in a ban on playing in the park for a whole week and being sent early to bed every night, Despite our mischievousness one taboo was observed – the bowling greens were respected; the fences which surround them now were not needed at that time. However, I am told that at the age of three I ran away from home and was found sitting in the middle of a bowling green.
Tessa Green, Heaton History Group member, has reminded us of the following: The late Julia Darling’s Booker long-listed novel ‘The tax-driver’s daughter’ has sections based in the parks including the ‘shoe tree’. Julia of course lived in Heaton.
There is a mention in the article of what became Heaton Park Road not yet having a name in 1879. We have just come across some interesting plans, also from 1879, for a proposed street layout and housing submitted by Addison Potter and his architect, FW Rich, on which this road is labelled ‘Shakespeare Road’. Other streets also had different proposed names.
We’ll be researching and writing about this this further in a project we’re doing on Heaton’s links with Shakespeare and especially the streets which have the names of characters in his plays. We’d also love to hear from anyone who remembers or was involved in the brick Shakespeare being built in what we think was the 1980s. (If you’re interested in getting involved in the project, please email chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org).