C O N T E X T 1 3 7 : N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 4 37 Architecturally speaking ‘He kept his eyes closed throughout the entire interview’ Take two unique but different historic structures. Built in the same year, 1837, both are of landmark quality and were designed by the same architect. Each was built to capitalise on excellent economic conditions and progress. Both reached a peak of commercial usefulness before going into apparently irredeemable decline, brought about by further progress. Both were quickly considered obsolete, resulting in one structure being closed but retained, while the other was dismissed out of hand as a hindrance to further growth and was eventually demolished in its entirety. Less than 100 years later the structure that was retained (despite the Blitz and relentless waves of demolition proposals that came against it) has been successfully restored. It is now part of a highly desirable historic area and a UNESCO world heritage site. The other, entirely demolished structure, is currently subject to a strong campaign for its rebuilding. Since all vestiges of this latter structure have been removed from its original site, this is, of course, a much more difficult position to start from than a simple proposal for its regeneration. The point? One generation’s perception that a building has reached irreversible obsolescence is another generation’s opportunity for regeneration and reuse. The only difference between these polar opposite views is time. Decline in usefulness, or even the complete cessation of the original use or usability of a historic building, should stir us to very long and thoughtful pause before any decisive action is taken. Philip Hardwick (1792–1870) was an architect of no little repute descending from a family of architects and being a close friend of the painter JMW Turner, who had been a pupil of Hardwick’s architect father, Thomas Hardwick Junior (1752–1829). A student of the Royal Academy Schools from 1808 and afterwards travelling widely in France and Italy, he was then appointed by theWestminster Bridge Estate, Greenwich Hospital, and St Bartholomew’s Hospital, among other prestigious commissions. In 1837 Hardwick and fellow civil engineer, Jesse Hartley, began drawing up plans for a new, radical dock system, the Albert Dock in the heart of Liverpool, which would allow the loading and unloading of ships directly into warehouses. Hardwick had used this system before at St Katharine’s Dock in London to great success. He re-used his London design at Liverpool and built warehouses whose cast-iron columns were placed right on the quayside. The warehouses were made from cast-iron, brick and stone with almost no timber whatsoever. In effect they amounted to the world’s first noncombustible warehouse system. More safely than ever before, they housed indigo, sugar, rum, tea, ivory, silk and cotton, as well as brandy and wine. One of the most advanced architectural features of Hardwick’s warehouses is the use of stressed skin roofing, which at the time of construction was almost unknown. Huge iron trusses are crossed with galvanised wrought-iron plates, creating a shape similar to an upturned boat. This supports the roof above. The floors in the warehouses are supported by large iron columns, imitating the external quayside columns. The spaces between these columns could be adapted to accommodate new windows, stairwells and lift shafts without risk to the building’s structural integrity. However, all this technological innovation was soon out-of-date, and within 20 years of its construction the Albert Dock began to struggle. They had been designed to service sailing ships up to a massive 1,000 tonnes but no one could have anticipated the use of the much larger steamships which could not be accommodated. By the start of the 20th century only seven per cent of Liverpool’s ships entering port were sailing vessels and the dockside warehouses that had once made the Albert Dock so efficient were hindering the unloading of steamships for lack of quayside space. By the 1920s all commercial shipping had ceased at the Albert Dock and it was largely turned over to the use of storage for goods transported by barge, rail or road. In 1939 the dock was requisitioned by the Admiralty and became the base for the British Atlantic Fleet, before being heavily bombed. After the war the dock’s owners, the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board (MDHB) was in financial crisis Liverpool’s Albert Dock allowed the loading and unloading of ships directly into warehouses.
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