Chapter 48: Morecambe Illuminations

Earlier in the year, Nan had taken Michael to see Walt Disney's Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs. It was being shown at the Odeon cinema, on King Street, in Lancaster. The cinema was a new exciting building, a symbol of the progress and improvements which were very slowly transforming some few working-class lives. The architecture was jazz moderne, (art deco). It was one of many similar film palaces being built all over the country.

Inside, there were thick carpets, a spacious foyer and what looked like expensive decorations. There were comfortable couches for those who had bought their tickets and were waiting for friends or for a performance to start. The discreet electric light fittings and wall coverings were well designed. The overall effect was intended to sooth and welcome. It was the most luxurious place that Michael had ever been to.

Inside the cinema itself was a vast, cavernous space with plush seats, set in tiered rows downstairs and upstairs. The seats were tip-ups with plenty of room for your legs and soft and comfortable. There was a stage with a high and wide curtain onto which soft lighting was projected with subtly changing colours. There must have been room in there for thousands, Michael thought. It was so capacious. It was the biggest place that Michael had ever been in.

Nan and he sat in the cheap seats, just three rows from the front. They were set well back from the screen so Nan didn't have to tilt her neck back much. Occupants of the cheap seats in some cinemas came out with stiff and aching necks. When the film started, Michael stood up some of the time. He hid behind the back of the seat in front, whenever the evil step-mother appeared on the screen.

Before they went to the cinema, Nan had tried to describe to him what a film was, but the experience amazed him. Its impact exceeded his wildest dreams. It was the most astounding thing that had ever happened to him. He'd always believed in magic, ever since he'd heard his first nursery rhymes, and read about Merlin and Aladdin and his lamp and many other similar stories. But for Michael this was reality exceeding imagination. It was marvellous, exciting and frightening. It did all sorts of things to him.

The story lived with him, long after seeing the film. Mam bought him colouring books with outline figures of Snow White and the Dwarfs. They had table mats, which Dad brought from work, with the cartoon figures on them. Michael learned the songs and sang them with Dad when he was taken up to bed each evening. "Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It's off to sleep we go!" He and Rob acted the story and made up new adventures for the characters.

Michael found it difficult to imagine anything that could give him more pleasure than his first visit to a cinema.

But Gordon had a real treat in mind for the kids. Michael was even more enthralled by what they did one weekend. It was a Saturday afternoon when Michael's Dad said, "After tea, we'll go down to Morecambe and see the Illuminations. I've heard that they've got Snow White in Happy Mount Park. We'll walk to Torrisholme and catch a Circular bus. That will take us as far as the Promenade, at Bare. We can walk to the Park from there. Afterwards, we'll go on a bus from the Park, all the way to the West End. At the Battery, we'll catch a bus back home."

Margaret said, "Why can't we catch a bus on Scale Hall Lane? Why do we have to walk all the way to Torrisholme? We'll be tired before we see the lights."

"Because all the Ribble buses from Lancaster will be packed. There will be loads of people from Lancaster trying to go to Morecambe. The buses will go sailing past us. We could wait there for ages. But Torrisholme Square's where the green buses start from. We'll catch one there quite easily. No problem!"

"All right then!" agreed Margaret. "But no racing! None of that fast walking! We'll take it easy."
"Okay!" said Gordon.

Michael was jubilant "Hurrah! Hurrah! Gwyn, we're going to have a good adventure." "Hurrah! No problem!" said Gwyn.

It was late October. It was already dark when they set-off from Sefton Drive to walk to Torrisholme. They took an electric torch because there was no moon and there was no street lighting down their road.

Gwyn was quite a good walker now and did not tire until half way up Cross Hill. Dad carried her from there to Torrisholme Square. On their way three double-decker Ribble buses passed them.

As they sped past Gordon said, "Look, I told you so. They're packed. All the seats are taken. Look at all the people standing!"

One of the green-and-cream Morecambe and Heysham Corporation buses had just arrived in the Square. Gordon was proved right. There wasn't much of a queue.

Michael didn't want to go on the top deck so they went downstairs. The bus-conductor rang his bell twice, which told the driver it was time to go. Then he came round for the fares.
He had a machine with a handle hanging from his neck. He selected the right price on his machine's dial and turned the handle. The machine printed the tickets. There was a whirring noise. The tickets came out of a slit in the front of his machine.

"Can I have them, please?" asked Michael. Dad handed over the roll of five tickets. The bus-conductor gave Gordon his change. He kept his money in a leather bag, which was also hung from his neck.

"Fares please!" called the conductor as he moved along the bus. People would call out, "Next stop please!" There was one ping on the bell and the bus slowed to a stop. He gave it two pings when he wanted it to go. Michael thought it must be good to be in control of a bus like that. Nobody else was allowed to ring the bell.

"Ping! Ping! Ping!" sang Michael and Gwyn as they skipped ahead of their parents on their way to the Park. Everywhere it was magic. There hundreds, thousands, it seemed like millions of coloured bulbs strung up between the lamp posts. They were on the sides of buildings and attached on high to cables from oneside of the wide Promenade to the other. The lights extended as far back as the eyes could see towards the centre of Morecambe and beyond.

"Miles and miles of them!" Michael shouted.

The darkness was transformed into Wonderland. Anticipating crowds were making for the Park and you could feel the excitement in the air. There was a long queue when they arrived at the park. It was quite a cool night but they were wrapped up warm. "Michael, hold your Dad's hand! Gwyn hold mine! We don't want you getting lost. We'd never find you again in this crowd."

Michael clutched his Dad's hand tightly. He didn't want to be lost in the dark.

The queue shuffled forward slowly. At last, they reached the gates. Dad bought four tickets and they followed other families down the main path.

At Sunday School they'd talked about the Gates of Paradise. Michael thought they must have meant something like the illuminated Happy Mount Park because going through the iron gates and into the park was like entering another world.

You had to keep to the paths as you went round so everybody had a good view. There was no pushing or shoving and no loud shouts. Just the loud murmurs and mutterings of astonishment. Hordes of children were astounded by the ingenuity and realism of the moving tableaux. It was like a dream place. The delighted adults were like children themselves taking a naive pleasure in all that attracted their eyes.

Michael went wild with excitement when he saw Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. "Look Gwyn! Just like the film! The one I saw with Nan."

There was a train you could have a ride on. It was all lit up. There were monsters with flashing eyes and nodding heads. There was every conceivable combination of bright bulbs illuminating the gorgeous flower-beds. From behind shrubs and trees little mythical creatures suddenly appeared. Lights flickered dimly in a grotto. Magic lanterns swung overhead in a gentle breeze.

There were fairies and elves and huge toadstools with weird creatures sitting on them. Gwyn wasn't too keen on the dragon, which roared and puffed out green smoke from its jaws.
In different areas of the park, music filled the air with tunes appropriate to the nearby exhibits. Michael's favourites were the models of the Seven Dwarfs. They looked so real. Michael was sure that it was them really singing the tunes from the film.

They were in the park ever such a long time. There was no question of being bored. However, it was becoming cooler. Gordon said, "Come on, we haven't finished yet. We'll go for the bus. There'll be lots to see on the Prom."

They made their way to the exit. There was a long queue of people waiting for the buses. It moved quickly. Everything was well-organised. There were four double-deckers filling up just outside the gates and four more across the road waiting to cross into a parking space as the full buses moved away. There must have been a bus leaving every two minutes.

"We'll see a lot more from the top deck," Margaret declared and Michael was persuaded to go up the stairs. They were lucky, because the front seats were empty. They were going to have a perfect view.

"Ping! Ping!" went the bell and the bus moved off. Michael forgot all about being dizzy. There were dozens of other kids on the bus with their parents and they were all pointing at whatever took their eyes. They called out to each other hardly able to contain their excitement. Michael recognised a big kid from school but they didn't speak to each other.

The further the bus went: past the Broadway, Headway and Grand hotels, the new Town Hall, the Tower Ballroom and Cinema, the more lights there were to be seen. Most boarding houses were competing with each other and had their own displays. The nearer they came to the Central Pier and Euston Road the greater the profusion of colour. What a stupendous spectacle! Margaret pointed down Queen Street. The street was jam-packed with revellers.

"Look Gordon, you can just see Joyce's pub. Down there on the right. Did you see it?"
"I think so," replied Gordon.

Michael tugged on his Dad's sleeve. "Look Dad! Look the other way! The Clock Tower, it looks lovely all lit up!"

The Promenade Gardens, the shops, the pubs, the amusement arcades and the Winter Gardens all were illuminated and all were a feast for the eyes. There were no vulgar displays. It was a class act. The overall design was splendid.

Morecambe's new pride, a fine example of municipal planning, came next. There were superb examples of art-deco architecture: the marvellous Midland Hotel, Woolworths, Littlewoods, the Super Swimming Stadium, the Empire and Arcadian complex were all passed. There was plenty of time to see everything because the traffic was so dense and moved very slowly. Next came the lights on the Midland Promenade Station, the Empire and Arcadian theatres, the cafes and the arcade.

There was so much traffic now that the bus was often at a standstill. The conductor did not need to ping his bell, passengers jumped on and off the bus when it suited them. Michael was glad that it was a slow journey because he was able to absorb everything. It was like going into a tunnel of majestic splendour. The coloured lights shone prettily everywhere, all the way past the new helter-skelter Cyclone, the Dodgems the amusement arcades, the Whitehall cinema and the West End Pier.

Michael's asked his Dad, "I think we must be in Heaven Dad. Do you think Heaven is like this?"

"Could be!" Gordon laughed.

Thinking about Heaven made him think about Granddad Henry and he suddenly felt sad. A shiver went down his spine. There was a hint of bitterness even in an experience as sweet as this. He hoped his Granddad was happy in his heaven. Then the sad thought went away as quickly as it had come.

The Clarendon Hotel was amazing. It had so many lights you could hardly see the building. "I bet they'll win the prize for the best lit hotel," Margaret said.

The West End Pier's illuminations were reflected in the calm water of the tide which had crept across the Bay and was now lapping against the sea wall.

"Ping!" went the bell. "Battery! Terminus!" called the bus-conductor. Dismayed, the children realised they had reached the end of the promenade. They had to leave the bus. They mingled with the crowds on the pavement. Even here, well away from the crammed central part of the Promenade, you could hardly move. There were so many people out for the evening.

There were locals, day-trippers and holiday-makers. All were enjoying lovely Morecambe, with its proud and justifiable boast of being a place where health abounded and beauty surrounded. "Can't we go back again Dad, when the bus turns round? I want to see it all again" "No, not tonight son. It's long past your bedtime. There'll always be another time."

But there wasn't! There was never another time like that for the Watsons.

War would be declared before the next Morecambe Illuminations. It would be another ten years before the lights were switched on again. By that time Michael and Gwyn's childhood would be over. Things would never be the same. Never! Not ever again! The magical moments would be lost. But always remembered by those who had experienced them.

Image via HistoricImages.co.uk