Judy Middleton 1992 (revised 2023)
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| copyright © J.Middleton This view incorporates the old Brighton coat of arms with heraldic dolphins and a Latin motto meaning In God we Trust. |
The Second World War
The authorities requisitioned many of Brighton and Hove’s
largest buildings, including hotels, schools, colleges and private houses and
various units of the Army, Navy and Air Force moved in for the duration.
In 1941 the management of the Hotel Metropole, Brighton
were given precisely three weeks in which to vacate the premises. It was a
dreadful scramble to try and clear such a vast building in such a short time.
Hannington’s undertook the task but there were just too many items to store
even in their ample depository. Some items had to be sent to Hudson’s
Depository in Queen’s Road, Abinger House in King’s Road and the former Westcombe
School for girls in Dyke Road. Although the depositories were secure enough,
many items were stolen from the two houses, particularly from Abinger House.
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| copyright © J.Middleton The Abinger House shown in this photograph was built in the 1950s and replaced the old Abinger House where some of the Metropole’s effects were stored for the duration. |
In October 1941 the Metropole became an aircrew-holding unit for the RAF. Previously there had been a similar establishment in a block of flats at Regent’s Park but there was not enough space.
The first large contingent of RAF men marched to Victoria
Station, on to the troop train and down to Brighton and the Metropole.
Airman Stanley Townsend lived in Brighton and although not
officially in the first draft, he grabbed the chance of free travel to his home
town for the weekend, and attached himself to the marching men. He was not
detected.
Squadron Leader Brian Walker, then a young lad aged nineteen,
was in the first draft. A couple of months after arriving at the Metropole he
contracted chicken pox and was despatched to a small hotel at Black Rock that
was being used as an isolation unit. There he spent his twentieth birthday. The
Medical Officer was a gynaecologist in civilian life and as he was not too
familiar with the symptoms of chicken pox, he called in his flight sergeant for
a second opinion. The only other occupant of the isolation unit was suffering
from mumps and so Walker promptly caught that as well.
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| copyright © Brian Walker These four young RAF lads were stationed at the Metropole in 1941. From left to right, Stan Townsend, Brian Walker, ‘Horse’ Roberts and ‘Cess’ Poole. |
Brian Walker’s experiences at the Metropole were probably
typical of many young airmen at the time. After his spell at the Metropole he
was sent to the Elementary Flying Training School at Marshalls, Cambridge. Then
it was back to the Metropole before leaving for more training in the southern
United States of America under the Arnold Scheme.
Meanwhile, back at the Metropole, the men were kept busy
drilling, going on route marches, and attending lectures on such subjects as
meteorology, navigation and aircraft recognition.
Norman Wilkinson came up with a brilliant idea, which
would regrettably prevent him and his helpers from doing all that excessive
exercise. In civilian life Wilkinson had been a designer for Tootal, Broadhurst
& Lee in Manchester, and his bright idea was to paint pictures of various
aircraft to put up on the walls of the aircraft recognition room.
The scheme was accepted and every morning at 8 a.m. the
flight sergeant would shout ‘Fall out the painters.’ While the rest of the men
went off for drills, the painting party disappeared downstairs. Wilkinson did
the actual work while the rest of the ‘painters’ provided moral support and
endless cups of coffee. Wilkinson did not favour a boring, formal portrait of
aircraft, instead he painted action pictures with titles such as Thames
Estuary Raided, Libyan Encounter and Axis Convoy Raided.
There is an amusing sequence to this story because when
the hotel was handed back after the war, the owners became quite excited when
they saw the Wilkinson paintings. They mistook them for the work of another
Norman Wilkinson (1878-1971) a well-known artist who held the rank of air
commodore in the war and was inspector of camouflage. During the Normandy
landings he was to be seen on deck, sketching furiously. He produced a set of
53 oil paintings of Naval incidents and also some involving Coastal Command
Royal Air Force. When the distinguished artist was contacted he had to tell
them that the Metropole paintings were not his work. Then they discovered the
other Norman Wilkinson living peacefully in Cheshire with his wife and they
were both invited to Brighton to declare the special exhibition open and at
last civilian folk were given a chance to view his wartime creations.
Another RAF officer remembered being at the Metropole in
1942 and 1943. He was based at the hotel but as a married officer he had
quarters elsewhere. He worked in the accounts office located on the third
floor. One day looking out of the window he saw an old man being wheeled along
the front and then left to soak up the sunshine. Suddenly, a Messerschmitt 109
appeared from the direction of Shoreham, flying low and firing rapidly. The
convalescent was out of his bath chair in a trice and tried to dive under an
adjacent seat.
Sergeant Thomas was still at the hotel when it began the
next stage of its career. On 31 May 1943 the Royal Australian Air Force took
over, becoming 11 PDRC (Personnel Dispatch and Reception Centre) the unit
having been at Bournemouth since July 1941. Although Australians ran it, it was
still part of RAF Brighton, with Wing Commander T.W. White in charge.
Dick Higgins, who was amongst the first batch of
Australians at the hotel, remembered the unit was somewhat disorganised at
first. After morning roll-call, the Aussies disappeared to the nearest pub
where an education awaited them. When they ordered their first pint of beer,
they were horrified to be presented with what looked like cold tea. But they
soon grew used to English beer.
Favourite hostelries included the one run by Tommy Farr,
the famous Welsh boxer, and the Hole in the Wall (later the Queensbury Arms)
near the hotel.
Wally Brue had fond memories of the Hole in the Wall and
he returned on a nostalgic trip in 1984. The man behind the bar told him he was
by no means the first Australian to revisit his former haunts.
It seems the Metropole was ‘dry’ during most of the war
years. There was a sergeants’ mess at Lion Mansions and an officers’ mess at
nearby Abbott’s Hotel.
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| copyright © J.Middleton Abbott’s Hotel stood on the corner of Regency Square and can be clearly seen in this photograph with the Metropole nearby. |
Frank Horley arrived at the Metropole at the end of 1943.
He had crossed the Atlantic on the Isle de France and travelled from
Greenock to Brighton by train. On arrival at Brighton he and his compatriots
(some 1,200 of them) learned about blackout restrictions at first hand when
they were obliged to march from the station to the Metropole in pitch darkness.
Although the distance is comparatively short, it seemed a long haul to the
exhausted men.
Ray Sayer was another 1943 arrival. He sailed with 5,000
other Australians aboard the Marisposa to San Francisco, from there they
travelled across America by train. In New York they boarded the Queen Mary and
sailed to Greenock. He arrived at Brighton in broad daylight and found his
first glimpse of the Metropole most impressive.
Arthur Leebold was in a contingent of 300 aircrew and he
arrived at the hotel in March 1944, having travelled the same roundabout route
with the only difference being that they sailed aboard the Queen Elizabeth. When
the Aussies claimed they had come half-way across the world to fight the
Germans, it was no more than the truth.
How did the Hotel Metropole strike all those men from Down
Under? Of course they were not seeing it under normal conditions but even so
the sheer size of the building together with the quantity of marble and tall
mirrors could not fail to impress. It was also a welcome change from the
standard accommodation in a Nissan hut. The hotel was heated, the baths were
large and the food was good but the lifts did not operate. It is not clear if
this was for mechanical or safety reasons or to improve fitness in those
billeted on the top floor.
It cannot have been peaceful with the frequent noise of
enemy aircraft passing overhead on their way to bomb London. Malcolm King
remembered that after D-Day the sound
of gunfire across the Channel could clearly be heard. Later on there were the
eerie V2 rockets as well.
Some four or five Australians were billeted in a single
bedroom; some slept in double bunks while one unfortunate had to make do with a
mattress on the floor. Arthur Leebold shared a room with Doug, Jim, Tim and
Peter but sadly he was the only one to survive the war. When he returned to
visit Brighton in more peaceful times, he did not fail to drink a toast to his
old comrades.
Vandalism was practically unknown but there was one prank
the men were rather fond of; they would shout ‘Bombs away’ and fling a metal
dustbin down the stairwell with a glorious clatter. But the authorities soon
got wise to this practice and had nets hung across.
One regrettable incident by an RAAF officer (and not
temporary gentleman either) occurred when he urinated over the balcony of one
of the top floor rooms. It was said the CO’s wife was left with a damp hat and
the event caused some excitement at the time.
Maurice Dunn recalled the scalding washing-up water in
which each man to wash his eating utensils. It was great having such hot water
but there was a problem if you accidentally dropped your knife in it. Men were
only issued with one knife and no chance of a replacement and so many choice
words were uttered when a knife had to be retrieved.
Dunn had a novel way of dealing with his detachable
collars, which saved him time and money. He would wash the collar as best he
could in the hand basin, squeeze it as dry as possible, and then stick it flat
on the mirror. In the morning he would simply peel it off, fresh and ready to
wear.
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| copyright © J.S. Otlowski J.S. Otlowski was already a British Army veteran before he began training to join the RAF Polish Squadron. |
J.S. Otlowski also recalled a FW 100 giving a virtuoso
performance of low flying. The plane flew low over the sea, almost skimming the
waves, pulled up sharply over the Metropole, dropped a bomb on a park and made
off unscathed.
Otlowski served in the Polish Squadron of the RAF. He had
already seen three years of active service with the 8th Army in the
Western Desert, including the siege of Tobruk, before training to become a
pilot. He arrived at Brighton in November 1943 and was posted to the Initial
Training Wing at the Hotel Stratheden in Regency Square. As it was close to the
Metropole it seemed sensible for the Poles to share messing facilities with the
Australians there. The Stratheden dining room also saw service as an
examination room and it was there that Otlowski sat his navigation exam (in
Polish).
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| copyright © J.Middleton The Stratheden Hotel was located on the east side of Regency Square; this postcard view dates from 1908. |
Both Poles and Australians attended the same Pay Parade
held on the West Pier.
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| copyright © J.Middleton Pay Parade for both Australian and Polish personnel was held on the West Pier. |
In 1952 Otlowski emigrated to Australia where he encountered many ex-RAAF members. The first question was always ‘If you were in the UK during the war, you must remember the Metropole.’
In early 1944 United States Air Force bombers and their
escorts assembled in the skies above Brighton. Otlowski recalled the scene as a
magnificent sight; there was a cloudless blue sky peppered with around 1,000
aircraft. A Lockheed Lightning fighter got into difficulties and plunged into
the sea a few hundred yards offshore opposite the Metropole. Royal Navy rescue
boats put out at once but the pilot was never found.
The Metropole also served as a reception centre for
Australian aircrew. Either they were fresh from Australia, or they had
completed training under the Empire Air Training Scheme, or they were between
postings. An idea of the size of the establishment can be gauged from the
figures recorded on 16 June 1943 as follows:
20 officers on the permanent staff
25 NCOs
33 other ranks
947 aircrew
206 officers, passing through
Flight Lieutenant David Bayer, the unit’s chaplain, was an
important member of the permanent staff. He had his work cut out because he was
the only padre but he emphasised that he was happy to talk to men of any
denomination. His small office was always crowded with men who might wish to
discuss a problem, or peruse the Australian newspapers scattered around, or
wanted to take part in some sport. Revd Bayer was a great sports organiser,
arranging for men to take part in at least fourteen different sports, together
with the relevant kit and transport. He also wrote hundreds of letters to
parents in Australia, telling them he had seen their son and that he was well
and happy. Although Church Parades were not compulsory, Revd Bayer was so
popular that he had to allow extra time for the hundreds of men who wanted to
attend.
By this time the unit was well organised with the issue of
kit, hospitality, medical checks including a night vision test and training
programmes all taken care of. Teeth were inspected at the hotel and Australians
attended in squads of 50. The New Zealand Dental Corps were also located at the
Metropole and members of the RNZAF stationed at the Grand Hotel (12 PDRC) used
to pop around for their inspection.
A scheme called the Dominion and Allied Forces Hospitality
League ensured men did not feel lonely on leave in a strange country. As soon
as men arrived at the Metropole they were informed they could send a reply-paid
telegram asking for hospitality on leave to Lady Frances Ryder or Miss
Macdonald of the Isles. Lady Frances or one of her helpers used to welcome
personally each batch of new arrivals. Ray Sayers was happy to recall meeting
Lady Frances over a cup of tea at the Metropole; she introduced him to a very
kind family with whom he spent no less than fourteen periods of leave. It was a
great bonus for a rather weary young man.
In May 1944 the Australians left the Metropole briefly
because of the run-up to D-Day. But they were back again by August of the same
year.
On 12 July 1945 the Hotel Metropole took on a new role as
a Red Cross centre for repatriating newly released prisoners of war. The men
were physically examined and de-briefed by intelligence officers.
People like Frank Horley in the pay office tried to give
the ex-prisoners sound advice about being cautious with their accumulated back
pay and if possible to send it back to Australia to give them a good start once
they were out of uniform. But of course there were some troubled souls who told
the staff what to do with their advice and insisted on withdrawing the whole
lot in one go.
Nobby Blundell had a marvellous reunion with John Dack on
31 May 1945. Dack had been in a Lancaster attacking Flushing when the plane was
shot down on 23 October 1944. Four of the crew were killed but Dack and two
others survived and were taken prisoner. Dack was taken to Stalagluft 3 at
Sagan, Upper Silesia. This camp became famous because of Great Escape and the
Wooden Horse. But those days were long over by the time Dack arrived. A cold
winter in north Germany was especially hard for the Australians. Dack put on
all the clothes he had but was still frozen; besides the prisoners were
under-weight. On 20 April 1945 the German left the camp and the Russians
arrived the next day. Dack arrived back in England on 26 May 1945 and the first
stop was the Metropole where he enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath with real soap
and a clean uniform to don afterwards. He was also greatly relieved to visit
the RAAF dentist who rushed through a new set of dentures for him – he’d had no
teeth since being shot down.
By the end of June 1945 some 937 Australian prisoners of
war had passed through the Metropole.
Prisoners of war from New Zealand were also installed at
the Metropole. Initially, they were under the care of Wing Commander Arthur
Colville but when he was involved in a serious car accident, Squadron Leader M.
Innes-Jones, his second-in-command, took over.
Innes-Jones commented on the appearance of newly arrived
prisoners of war because they were nothing more than skin and bone. Some of
them had been forced to take part in the horrific 800-mile tramp from Poland
before the German front collapsed. Quantities of special food were imported
from New Zealand for these prisoners including the luxury of tinned oysters.
Although by then food in England was of the plainest and in short supply, it is
pleasant to record that none of this special consignment was spirited away.
A band of local lady volunteers came into the hotel to
make beds and arrange fresh flowers for the men. The men had been so starved of
female company that the chaplain and Innes-Jones had difficulty in persuading
them not to propose marriage to the first pretty face they encountered.
The Metropole also provided accommodation for aircrew and
officers awaiting a berth for the journey home. Some stayed for a few weeks but
Bob Hannay was fortunate in making a quick getaway. This was because he won a
ticket on one of the first ships transporting military personnel back to
Australia. In his case his success was tinged with sadness and he said it was the
only lottery he did not want to win because it meant leaving behind his English
sweetheart, a seventeen-year old WAAF.
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| copyright © G.Cook George Cook of the RAAF was stationed at the Metropole but this photo was taken when he was on leave in 1944. |
George Cook found his six-week stay at the Metropole being extended to eight weeks. But he did not mind because he and some of his mates found jobs at the local brewery. They did not earn much money but there was plenty of free beer.
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| copyright © D.Packwood Flight Officer Darcy Packwood RNZAF was photographed near the top of the Metropole in August 1945. |
Although it was mostly the case that New Zealanders went to the Grand Hotel and Australians went to the Metropole, there was inevitably some overlap between the two. Thus Darcy Packwood of the RNZAF and some friends found themselves on the top floor of the Metropole in March 1945 and again in September of the same year before sailing home on the Andes.
Eventually, the Metorpole was empty and the authorities
handed it back for civilian use in 1946. The long haul back to normality began.
Staff Recollections
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| copyright © J.Middleton Views of the Metropole looking west are more unusual. In this Edwardian scene you can see three invalid carriages but no other traffic. Note the hotel’s huge chimney-stack. |
Imagine the scene in the 1920s. Inside the Metropole’s
impressive entrance hall, there was a small bench on the right-hand side near
the desk. On this bench sat six pageboys dressed in a smart maroon uniform with
brass buttons and peaked cap. The pageboys took it in turns to run errands for
the guests for a wage of 5/- a week.
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copyright © Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove A 1923 advert from the Brighton Season Magazine |
Joe Vinall became a pageboy in 1923 and it was the uniform
that attracted him. He thought the boys looked as smart as paint. Vinall was
the smallest pageboy and weighed under five stone but he became a great
favourite with the guests and did very well with the tips. Out of his wages he
gave his mother 3/- for his keep but he kept the rest of the money for himself
because he was saving up to buy a bicycle, which in those days could be
purchased for £3. But when the great day came and he had enough money, he found
his small stature meant his feet could not reach the pedals. His father solved
the problem by bolting pieces of wood on to the pedals and at last young Joe
could cycle in comfort.
The staff took their meals in a hall situated below
pavement level. But Joe Vinall did not like the food provided and he knew where
to get something tastier to eat. Bill Grenyer was a good friend and he ran the
hotel’s Turkish Bath. He was a war veteran whose injuries left him with a
damaged leg. But as he had worked for the Metropole before the war, they gave
him a job there afterwards. The management ensured good food was sent to him at
lunchtime but as he lived a short distance away in Upper Russell Street, he
sometimes went home for his meal and then young Joe would eat the food instead.
Joe Vinall’s friend Arthur Knight was also a pageboy and
his father ran the Billiard Room; you could say there was almost a family
feeling about the staff. Indeed it was Arthur’s father who told Joe there was a
pageboy vacancy.
One of Joe’s favourite haunts was downstairs amongst all
the machinery because it was akin to being in the engine room of a great ship.
There were three huge Lancashire boilers, all measuring 20 feet in length and
there was a team of full-time engineers and stokers to keep things going. Two
of the boilers were kept working at any one time while the third was on
stand-by. The hotel had its own dynamo for electricity and the lifts worked by
hydraulic power.
On another floor of the hotel a professional dancer earned
his living by teaching guests the mysteries of ballroom dancing. He used a
wind-up gramophone to provide the music for his lessons and needless to say the
pageboys enjoyed playing a record should the opportunity arise. Neither did the
pageboys neglect their dancing education because when a tea dance was being
held in the Winter Garden, they would peep through the windows and learn the
steps. Then round the back they would go to practise their moves in time to the
music of the band that could be heard quite clearly.
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| copyright © Tony Mckendrick-Warden This view shows the Winter Garden where once the Dancing Master held sway. |
During Racing Fortnight the Metropole was especially busy.
Many jockeys patronised the establishment in order to steam off a few surplus
pounds in the Turkish Bath. Some of the racing fraternity such as Vic Gunn, the
bookmaker, were also to be seen at the hotel.
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| copyright ©
Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove
A 1920s advert from the Brighton Season Magazine |
Jim Page was another pageboy who began working at the hotel
in 1926. Jim too was a small lad and his parents thought becoming a jockey
would be an ideal career for him. Off they went to Lewes to make enquiries but
when they found out they would be expected to pay £3 a week for the privilege
of being an apprentice jockey from the age of fourteen for seven years, they
quickly abandoned the idea. There was no way they could afford the fees and so
Jim became a pageboy instead.
Lady Sackville had a suite of rooms at the Metropole. The
pageboys looked forward to her visits because she was known as a generous
tipper and would sometimes give a boy 5/-. Little Jim was her favourite pageboy
and she even wanted to adopt him but his parents would not allow it. When Jim
went down with scarlet fever and was carted off to Bevendean Hospital, Lady
Sackville sent him baskets of fruit, grapes and eggs to hasten his recovery.
Dorothy Bowden (later Mrs Sharp) started working at the
Metropole in 1915. She was something of an innovation – the first lady working
out front, as it were. The reason being that so many men had marched off to war
that it was a case of employing females or nothing. Dorothy was sent to a
tailor in Hove who made her a fetching navy blue suit to wear on duty. Then she
took up her duties in reception near the revolving doors. She was only sixteen
years old but she was put in charge of no less than 677 keys. She loved the
work and all the interesting people she met including French actress Alice
Delysia who paced up and down moaning ‘But where is my bagg-age?’ with the last
word drawn out in her strong French accent.
On one occasion when Dorothy was busy working in the
office she looked up and saw a small boy pointing a gun at her. ‘Hands up!’ he
ordered. But she laughed and refused explaining she was too busy to play with
him. Just then a distraught nursemaid rushed down the stairs and grabbed the
boy. ‘Thank goodness I’ve found him’ she gasped ‘that gun belongs to his father
and you know I’m afraid it’s loaded.’
Dorothy left the Metropole in 1919; she could see which
way the wind was blowing. Men were returning home from war and wanting their
old jobs back. A wealthy tea-planter and his wife staying at the hotel on leave
from India offered Dorothy a situation and she accepted. Her first task was to
pack up the lady’s hats in 30 separate boxes scattered around the suite they
occupied.
Beatrice Clissold was only aged fourteen when she began
work as a chambermaid at the Metropole in 1925. The hours were long and the pay
was poor. Work started at 6 a.m. and although the girls were given two hours
off in the afternoon, the working day did not finish until 10 p.m. There was
one half-day off a week from 3.30 p.m. to 9 p.m. and the same hours off on a
Sunday but only once a month.
Beatrice earned 12/6d a week but she had to give her
mother 10/- and still had to pay for her uniform. This consisted of a blue
dress with apron for morning wear and a black dress with white collar and cuffs
plus a frilly apron for afternoon wear. A frilled white cap with black velvet
bands completed the ensemble. She had to buy her black stockings and shoes as
well and so there was hardly enough money left over for a trip to the cinema or
a small bag of sweets. She lived in at the hotel, which should have been an
advantage but the food provided for the staff was dreadful.
Although guests basked in the glow of electric lights,
electricity did not extend to the top floor where the chambermaids had their
bedrooms. The management issued them with two candles along with a small amount
of tea, sugar and margarine.
The maids were obliged to use the back stairs at all
times; no lifts for them. They all wore a chain around their waists to which
the room keys were attached. Once Beatrice came down at 6 a.m. as usual but the
housekeeper noticed she had forgotten her keys. It took her a good ten minutes
to climb back to the top of the hotel and naturally the time lost was deducted
from her wages. Beatrice also remembered the ‘blue girls’ who worked in the
kitchens; so called from the blue and white dresses they wore with blue
tricorn-shaped hats.
Ken Amiet started off at the Metropole as a pageboy in
1934 at the age of thirteen. The wages were still 5/- for a 72-hour week but
the tips were good. At the time his father was head wine waiter, having worked
his way up from being a commis waiter in 1912. Ken graduated to being a porter
and stayed at the Metropole for his entire working life, retiring at the age of
66 in 1987.
He remembered that in the early days there were 100
full-time residents who lived in the hotel permanently paying 28 guineas a week
for full board. It was good value because they enjoyed a huge breakfast, lunch,
afternoon tea, and a seven-course dinner to round off the day.
There was also a sea-captain who enjoyed the comfort of
the Metropole between voyages. His pet parrot always accompanied him, a clever
bird able to recite poetry.
One of the guests Ken looked after in 1947 was Winston
Churchill who insisted on having the cream off full-fat milk to pour over his
porridge. Other favourites were the actor Ralph Richardson and the politician
Jim Callaghan, popularly called Sunny Jim with whom Ken chatted about football.
Ken also enjoyed seeing at close quarters stars such as Elizabeth Taylor,
Richard Burton, Joan Collins and Barry Manilow.
One man who seemed to be the perfect gentleman but turned
out to be nothing of the sort was John George Haigh, the acid bath murderer. In
February 1948 Archie and Rose Henderson stayed at the Metropole. On 16 February
Haigh turned up at the hotel, paid the Hendersons’ bill, explaining the couple
had been called away urgently and producing a forged letter of authority from
Archie Henderson. He asked that their luggage, including two golf bags, should
be loaded into his car. Haigh was so charming and plausible that Ken had no
hesitation in complying with his wishes,
It was not long afterwards that Haigh’s urbane, smiling
face was plastered all over the newspapers. He had taken the Hendersons, one at
a time, to his store room in Leopold Road, Crawley, shot them dead and
dissolved their bodies in a bath full of acid. On 6 August 1949 Haigh was
hanged for the murder of Mrs Durand Deacon, one victim of the acid bath who did
not disintegrate completely.
Frank Knight started work as a porter at the Metropole in
the 1930s and stayed for many years. When he started in 1933 he worked a
13-hour day, six days a week. His duties included hauling up buckets of coal
for the fires and buckets of sea water in which guests could immerse their
gouty feet and it cost them six pence a time.
Frank remembered the time when Marlene Dietrich stayed at
the hotel and put the staff in something of a spin. At 3.30 p.m. she demanded a
steak but the restaurant staff had gone and thus it fell to Harold Lay,
administration manager, to roll up his sleeves and do the cooking.
Frank also had an experience of the criminal fraternity
but nothing as dramatic as Haigh. In the 1960s two men and a girl were staying
at the hotel and when they left, Frank carried their luggage down for them. He thought
at the time that the cases were rather heavy. At 1 a.m. the police phoned; it
appears the cases contained the proceeds of a bank robbery at Leeds but the
gang were later caught.
German-born Stanley vom-Berg started work as a waiter at
the Metropole in 1934. He recalled the time King Haile Selassie of Ethiopia
stayed at the hotel but refused to be served by any of the Italian waiters
because his country had just been invaded by Italy.
Stanley and his brother Walter found themselves on the
opposite sides of the fence, as it were, in the Second World War. Walter
remained in Germany and served in the German Army. After being captured, he was
sent to Scotland as a prisoner of war. Meanwhile Stanley served in the British
Army. He too ended up in Scotland when he was sent there to act as interpreter
to German prisoners of war. After the war Stanley returned to civilian life and
resumed work at the Metropole where, as it happened, his future wife Elizabeth
was working as a chambermaid. But they did not meet for the first time in the
hotel but at the ice-rink at the foot of West Street. In March 1989 the couple
celebrated their Golden Wedding.
It is a remarkable fact that from 1890 to 1982 the
Metropole had its own printing plant and employed a full-time printer. It was
necessary because until 1975 daily menu cards were printed; then there were
invitation cards, dinner dance programmes, conference luncheons, Masonic
functions, weddings and bar-mitzvahs.
Denis Russell was the last printer and he started at the
hotel in 1953. He had the pleasure of printing invitations to special guests
allowing them to watch the coronation of Elizabeth II on the hotel’s own
television set (admittance by invitation only).
When Denis started work at the Metropole the printing
equipment was old-fashioned consisting of a hand-fed machine, known in the
trade as a ‘cropper’, and a dozen cases of type. But by the time of his
retirement, the equipment was all up to date.
One bonus gained from his daily scrutiny of menus was an
excellent knowledge of phrases used in French cuisine. André Simon, a famous
writer on the subject of food and wine, was so impressed by the Metropole’s
perfectly printed menu that he sent a letter of congratulation to Denis.
The hours worked as a printer were somewhat elastic and so
Denis was sometimes called upon to do other duties. He particularly enjoyed
dressing up as Father Christmas for children’s parties and as Old father Time
for parties on New Year’s Eve.
Ken Lyon’s musical connection with the Metropole went back
a long way and during the 1930s he used to perform in the Winter Garden. He
gained experience by playing in other bands in the evenings such as Jack
Barnett’s and Emilio Colombo’s, while his day job was working in an office. He
did not turn professional until 1937. During the Second World War he served in
the RAF and formed a double act with Joe ‘Mr Piano’ Henderson.
In 1946 Ken Lyon was demobbed and used his gratuity to set
up his own band, which in those days usually consisted of five members; a
pianist, a double bass, drums, a violinist who could double on the saxophone,
and a saxophonist who could double on the clarinet. Versatility was the keyword
and Ken was a vocalist too, crooning Bing Crosby-style.
The band members always wore evening dress when performing
in hotels but if they were booked for the West Pier, they wore dark, lounge
suits. Ken Lyon’s music was in the best tradition of the Palm Court Orchestra.
When he started out there were plenty of others doing the same but by the 1980s
he felt he was practically the last of a species. By the 1980s his trio
consisted of himself (often playing his 100-year old double bass nicknamed
Alphonse) a pianist and violinist.
The trio performed in the Pavilion Gardens on summer afternoons
while the Metropole always booked them to play for a couple of hours on
Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. On one occasion he even appeared
before the Queen in the Royal Pavilion.
Ken Lyon and his
wife suffered a tragedy when their son Keith was murdered in May 1967. Keith
was a bright, handsome lad aged twelve when he was knifed on the Downs near
Ovingdean. The crime was never solved although it has been re-investigated in
recent years. Ken Lyon died in January 1991.
Recent Times
After the Second
World War Stanley Till became the new general manager with John Brand as his
assistant. They found the building needed a complete overhaul but it was still
a time of austerity and it was very difficult to obtain materials. However, a
start was made with a complete re-wiring taking place and Ashley Horner of
London undertook as much re-decoration as possible.
In 1959 AVP
Industries purchased the Metropole from Gordon Hotels. Then the rumours
started. People were saying the hotel would be demolished and Brighton would
lose one of its famous landmarks. Although for years the red-brick structure
had been criticised as being too brash, the prospect of losing it for good
instantly put a different complexion on the case. Now it was seen as a grand
reminder of the Victorian heyday.
In the event the
rumours proved to be groundless and the Metropole was not pulled down. However,
it was not considered viable in its current state and an ambitious re-modelling
was planned costing in the region of £500,000. Bringing the hotel up to modern
day standards can be summaries by the fact that in 1959 there were only 50
bathrooms in the establishment whereas under the new scheme each of the 275
bedrooms would have its own en suite bathroom. Michael Poster supervised
the building operations and he was described as the youthful resident assistant
to the managing director of AVP Ltd.
Although the
reconstruction was said to be necessary from an economic viewpoint, several
important features were deemed to be expendable. One of them was the famous
skyline that was lovely hallmark of the hotel. The charming little turrets and
central spire were removed and two new storeys were added to the building. The
construction posed a tricky building problem, which was solved by the insertion
of bridging beams at the 5th storey.
 |
| copyright © J.Middleton This view was taken in March 2009 and the new roof-line can be clearly seen. |
The conversion was
a typically Sixties exercise when a disregard for Victorian architecture was
endemic. Thus the Metropole lost much of its original décor; intricate coving
and high ceilings were obscured when new lower ceilings were installed. The
handsome marble chimney-piece created by Queen Victoria’s nephew was dispensed
with and the delightful cast iron and glass canopy over the entrance was
removed. The Winter Garden was destroyed and with it went romantic memories of
young couples whispering sweet nothings to each other in front of large cages
full of budgerigars.
 |
| copyright © J.Middleton The towering block of flats was part of the Metropole re-development scheme. On the left is the new Abbott’s built on the site of the historic Abbott’s Hotel. |
An analogy may be
drawn with another local Waterhouse building, namely Hove Town Hall. This
structure was badly damaged by fire in 1966. If the will had been there it
might have been re-constructed and saved. But recognition of the many fine
qualities in Victorian architecture was at its lowest ebb in the Sixties and so
demolition became the order of the day.
A major part of
the Metropole’s new scheme was the provision of a new exhibition hall behind
the hotel and the creation of a 24-storey tower block containing 120 flats
rising to a height of 336 feet. Tower blocks were also an obsession of the
Sixties and something that came to be regretted in many cases. The brutalism of
such a structure in an area of historic and small-scale housing was not
considered. Old housing in Cannon Street and Queensbury Mews were demolished,
the Italian Garden was obliterated and the beautiful church of St Margaret
pulled down. C.A. Busby was the architect who designed St Margaret’s in the
Greek Revival style. Busby was a very important local architect responsible for
the creation of Brunswick Town.
The Starlit Room
was created on the 7th floor of the Metropole and opened for
business in October 1961. Diners could enjoy splendid views, which in fine
weather extended from Rottingdean to Worthing. This is now known as the
Chartwell Room and can be reserved for private meetings or dinners.
The refurbishment
was finally finished in 1965.
A Casino
In 1962 the
Metropole Casino opened with a flourish. Not only was it the first one in
Brighton, it was also the first in Britain too. The entrance to the casino was
at the back of the main hall and up a newly built twin staircase decorated with
wrought ironwork.
Peter Harrison,
who was secretary at the time, recalled that around 800 people all wearing
evening dress used to patronise the casino every night. The number included
celebrities such as heavyweight boxer Billy Walker, blonde singing star Kathy
Kirby, Ambrose, the band-leader, and Ian Fleming, author of the James Bond
books. Peter Harrison said, ‘I can remember Fleming quite distinctly. He was a
very nice man. He always walked about with a black cigarette holder in his
mouth.’
Peter Harrison’s
brother Kenneth Harrison was croupier on opening night. He had an anecdote
about film star Diana Dors who was once turned away from the casino because she
was wearing trousers. He remarked, ‘She said she would take them off but we did
not let her.’
A great deal of
money was won and lost at the Metropole Casino in the gold-leafed splendour of
the Clarence Room. But two events hastened its closure. In the 1970s new
legislation was introduced that based the licence fee on the rateable value of
the premises, which for the Clarence Room came to an incredible £45,000.
In 1982 the
Metropole organisation opened the International Casino Club in Preston Street.
The Metropole Casino closed in 1985 and two years later the Brent Walker Group
purchased the casino division.
Further Extension
Harold Poster, by
now chairman of AVP Industries, was not going to allow the hotel to rest on its
laurels for long. When he purchased the hotel in 1959 he realised the important
new hotel trade was going to be conference booking because the days of the beau
monde were long past. In order to attract such conference bookings, plenty
of facilities were necessary and preferably they needed to be under one roof.
Thus in June 1970
the next phase of modernisation began. The idea was to expand the exhibition
halls to double their previous size and the scheme involved three levels facing
Cannon Place. Tony Webb, general manager, said he hoped everything would be
ready in time for the Toy Fair to be held in January 1972.
At the same time
the kitchens were gutted to make way for modern ones. While this work was being
done, temporary kitchens were set up in the east wing formerly home to Maple’s
furniture store. Once the new kitchens were in full swing, the part vacated in
the east wing was to be converted into a restaurant.
Health Hydro
In September 1970
the Health Hydro was unveiled. The well-known Forest Mere Hydro ran the
establishment and it cost £250,000. Not content with one celebrity cutting the
ribbon the management decided to invite no less that 120 show-biz stars to the
opening. This number included Alan Whicker, Hermione Baddeley, Millicent Martin
and Derek Nimmo.
It was stated that
that ideally a treatment should last for ten days (at a cost of 60 guineas a
week) but ‘out-patients’ were welcome too and there was a special all-day
session for women costing six guineas. Some 56 qualified staff catered for all
needs and included five state-registered nurses, dieticians and masseurs.
Harold Poster
Harold Poster was
enormously proud of the modernised Metropole. ‘I’m not modest about it’ he
said, ‘I want it clearly understood that Harold Poster was the very first man
to bring 100,000 square feet of conference space to the town. And it was me who
made Brighton Festival possible. I personally underwrote the Festival.’
These were the
proud words of a self-made man. He grew up in poor circumstances in the 1920s
near Stepney’s Brick Lane and he was the second youngest of eleven children.
Another cause of
pride came in May 1977 when ‘Tiny’ Rowland’s Lonrho Group made a £25 million
bid for AVP Industries, which in 1957 only had a market value of £100,000. Mr
Poster advised shareholders to accept the offer because he felt he had enjoyed
a good innings.
The Cannon
The next milestone
in the Metropole’s history was the creation of the Cannon, a pub on the
south-east corner of the building. Raymond Schomberg designed it and he was
responsible for all the Metropole Group’s hotel interiors. Above the pub a new extension
provided yet more conference space and bedrooms.
The pub’s name
derives from the fact that the West Battery was once situated nearby, in fact
south of the site now occupied by the Grand Hotel. The cannons arrived in 1793
and there were five of them, all muzzle-loaders, pointing towards France. They
were capable of firing a heavy missile weighing around 40lbs. The cannon balls
were kept in two decorative pyramids behind the guns. The Battery was removed
in 1858 when the seafront road was widened.
An eye-catching
feature of the Cannon pub was the open veranda with white balustrades and
decorative ironwork; it was a deliberate attempt to reflect the style of
Regency Brighton.
The Cannon was
opened on Maundy Thursday 1981 to the noise of a cannon fired on the stroke of
noon by gunners of the Sussex Yeomanry. At the same time the band of the 1st
Battalion Queen’s Regiment marched along the seafront.
The Metro
Fred Hutchings,
general manager, had long been thinking of establishing a nightclub at the
Metropole and in September 1983 the Metro was born. It was a fitting name
because you have to venture underground to reach it. It was built beneath the
Cannon but had a separate entrance.
Swimming Pool
After the Metro,
Mr Hutchings obviously felt that more of the basement could be utilised for
other amenities. A swimming pool was the in-thing as Brighton hotels rushed to
provide what Bournemouth hotels had already built. In September 1986 the
Metropole opened its new swimming pool measuring 50 feet by 30 feet.
The pool has an
interesting shape because it was constructed in the space formerly occupied by
two rooms. Weight-bearing walls had to be taken account of and thus there are
two massive pillars on either side halfway down the pool. It makes it look
rather distinguished, like swimming in the ruins of a submerged city.
Refurbishment
More money was
poured into the refurbishment of the interior. It is perhaps ironic that the
décor of the dining room should be an opulent echo of Victorian style because
there are wedding-cake style decorations and magnificent long mirrors opposite
the windows to add to the feeling of space and light.
The drawing room
has emerged closer to its 1890s style although it had seen service previously
as the Buttery. The new colour scheme was soft pink and blue to provide a
tranquil interior as a contrast to the strident light of the seafront.
Seventy bedrooms
were re-designed too. Those at the front of the hotel were in soft blue while
those at the back were given warmer tones.
By the close of
1991 another part of the refurbishment had been completed. An interesting find
was the discovery of the splendid terracotta curved main entrance, which had
been hidden behind marble since the 1960s and forgotten. It was painstakingly
restored. The management was delighted and so was Geoff Bennett, Brighton
Council Planning Conversation Officer, who put the hotel forward for a national
Civic Trust award as well as the council’s own design award.
The revolving
doors of steel were replaced by new old-style revolving doors in dark wood with
brass fittings and bevelled-edged glass panels.
The next step was
to demolish the hideous squat entrance canopy put up in the 1960s, with
something more sympathetic to the Victorian era. Plans envisaged airy glass
domes resting on cast-iron supports.
 |
| copyright © J.Middleton In this photograph taken in February 2009 the delightful new entrance canopy can be seen. |
Meanwhile, the
entrance hall and much of the ground floor was decorated in a light
lemon-patterned wallpaper with dark wood wainscoting. It was felt that the
original black and white tiles were somewhat funereal and they were replaced
with warm rose/brown tiles instead. There is also a carved marble fireplace in
the same warm tones, which was especially commissioned and made in Italy.
 |
| copyright © J.Middleton A bustling crowd enjoys the sun and seafront on 23 May 2010. |
It is pleasant to
note the tradition of employing artists to decorate the public spaces has been
revived. At the back of the entrance hall a circular ceiling panel depicts a
blue sky with seagulls within a border of swirling yellow ribbons. Patrick
O’Sullivan and Laura Boyer were the artists employed on this project and they
worked for the firm of Davies, Keeling & Trowbridge. It was the same firm
that was responsible for the entrance hall and the marble fireplace just
mentioned.
In the Ambassador
Room there is another circular painting depicting a classical scene. Downstairs
the swimming pool area is greatly enhanced by a mural of the West Pier and the
sea. The firm Treasure Goughton were responsible for these two paintings on
behalf of interior designers Richmond Inston.
 |
| copyright © J.Middleton There are still small boats to be seen on Brighton’s famous pebbly beach with the Metropole and the Grand Hotel as a backdrop. |
Update
In 2016 the
establishment is known as the Hilton Metropole Brighton. Many people will be
having a fresh look at it thanks to the opening of Brighton’s newest attraction
the i360 viewing tower, which is sited near at hand.
On 22 September
2016 the hotel’s general manager, Sascha Koehler, called on local graffiti
artists, preferably Sussex-based, to get in touch with him with their ideas
about how to decorate the huge white space on top of the hotel. It would
provide something interesting for customers taking a flight in the pod to look
at.
Hove Councillor
Robert Needham has already commented on the boring aspect of flat roofs from
the pod. He thinks that with some imagination there could be roof gardens or
even suitable places to site beehives. After all, if beehives can prosper high
up in New York, why not try it at Brighton? In short, the i360 opens up new
prospects in more ways than one.
The idea of a piece of artwork to
decorate the flat white Metropole roof was quickly taken up. By 6 October 2016
the Argus was able to report that part of the roof had already received
attention from graffiti artist Aroe MSK (real name Paul Barlow) and his 18-year
old daughter Solveig Maseyk. It is interesting to note that several flights had
to be made aboard the i360 pod to make sure the perspective was correct.
Mr Barlow said he loved the city
and hoped his work would make people smile. He said ‘it’s almost like a secret
public gallery from the roofs’.
Sascha Koehler, the Metropole’s
general manager, was enthusiastic, commenting ‘I just love the fact there is
something different on our roof. It’s something a bit cool and hip for one of
the city’s oldest hotels.’
New Name
In 2023 local people were concerned that the hotel, famous for many years under the simple name of ‘Metropole’ would now be encumbered with the extraordinary title ‘DoubleTree by Hilton Brighton Metropole’. Granted that it has has been run by the hotel firm of Hilton since 2000, and that some £26 million has been spent on refurbishment, but this is hardly an excuse.
It is somewhat curious the management likes to boast that the hotel was mentioned in The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot, and that Oscar Wilde visited in July 1894. Surely such eminent wordsmiths would be appalled by such a cumbersome title. One man even went so far as to call it ‘cultural vandalism’. (Argus 15/5/23)
 |
| copyright © D. Sharp The i360 viewing tower with the Hilton Metropole and the Grand Hotel to the right. (October 2016) |
Sources
Thanks to the
following people allowing me to reproduce their photographs:
Brighton &
Hove City Libraries
George Cook
Robert Jeeves (Step
Back in Time 36 Queen’s Road Brighton)
Tony
McKendrick-Warden)
J.S. Otlowski
Darcy Packwood
Brian Walker
Thanks are also
due to many people who kindly provided me with help and valuable information.
Amongst them are the following:
Harold Lay and Ken
Amiet, Beatrice Clissold, James W. Collins, Arthur Knight, Ken Lyon, Jim Park,
Denis Russell, Dorothy Sharp, Joe Vinall
Denis Russell, Dorothy Sharp, Joe Vinall
Concerning the
Second World War, I am grateful for letters received from the Antipodes.
From Australia
Squadron Leader
P.A. Davidson, Nobby Blundell, Wally Brue, George Cook, John Dack, Maurice Dunn, John L. Francis, Bob Hannay, Dick Higgins, F.C. Horley, Malcolm King, Arthur Leebold, Keith J. Oates P.J. O’Connor, J.S. Otlowski
(Polish Squadron RAF), Roy Powell, Jock Ross, Ray Sayer, Robert Smith,
Glyn Thomas (RAF), Brian Walker.
Glyn Thomas (RAF), Brian Walker.
From New Zealand
Squadron Leader M.
Innes-Jones, Margaret McCann, Darcy Packwood, Doug Palmer, George Parry, Ian Simpson.
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Copyright © J.Middleton 2016
page layout by D.Sharp
page layout by D.Sharp