I was idly pondering the Leeds Merrion Centre today and I thought I'd jot down some memories of Leeds generally in the mid 90s when I was a student at Leeds Uni.
Living in
G-block of St Mark's flats on Woodhouse Lane (opposite the School of Mechanical Engineering), our choice for food shopping was limited. We invariably went to the
Morrisons in the Merrion Centre, and hauled the shopping back up the hill - what a drag. If we were feeling flush we caught the bus for the short journey, just to avoid that 'orrible hill. Some in our circle had access to a car, and braved the funny Morrisons underground car-park. What an indulgence.
But! The Merrion Centre. What a treat, the most budget shopping centre Leeds has to offer. Even in the mid-nineties I could see it was an appalling 60s concrete wasteland. Entering from Clay Pit Lane, the first thing that struck me was the nasty subway, which reminded me of
that bit in A Clockwork Orange where Alex and his droogs beat up a tramp. I used to feel quite uneasy walking through it. They bricked it up in the year 2000. Leading up from the subway to the Merrion Centre entrance was a breathtaking conceit - an outdoor escalator.
Albeit, it never ran when we used to use it, IIRC it was covered in moss, and I imagine it broke very soon after installation in the 70s. I mean, a metal escalator completely unprotected from the elements, whose loony idea was that? It's been replaced by concrete steps since.
Going through this entrance to the Merrion Centre, you would find yourself in a very odd narrow hall of shops with fibreglass frontages that made them appear to be a row of olde-worlde shoppes a la Diagon Alley - this was grandly titled the
Georgian Arcade but the effect wasn't very convincing, situated as it was in a bright '60s mallspace opposite the glass windows that looked into Morrisons. It felt more like a scene from THX1138 than anything else.
I recall one of the shops was the kind of new-age place that stunk of pachouli oil and joss sticks. They sold overpriced CDs of whale-song and tribal chants, tie-dyed wall-hangings and little buddha ornaments. In typical student fashion I bought loads of this stuff although oddly I haven't lit a joss stick since 1997. Those shops were everywhere in 1994, especially in the now-defunct dark-arches Granary Wharf market.
The other notable tenant of the Georgian Arcade was a Tap and Spile pub. Amazingly it was a very nice and friendly pub and I spent quite a few happy hours in there drinking some amazing brews. My favourite was called "Whitby's Nut Brown" and it was like pure chocolate. Nom! Sadly this pub and all the other tenants in the arcade had their leases closed pending a redevelopment that never happened.
Moving into the Centre now, we pass a newsagent's shop, next to which is a thin indoor alley that leads to the Merrion Market. Dear traveller, what delights await you in the market? It really was the most unbelieveably inhumane and scruffy place, making the Kirkgate Market seem a cultural paradise.
I used to feel a weird vibe while roaming its oddly artificial labyrinth, wondering how any of the stallkeepers stayed in business, or stayed sane under the cold striplighting. Was this the 1960s vision of the future? I revisited in 2010 and it was even more of a ghost-town with many of the stalls permanently closed. A very spooky quiet lay on the place. I'm led to believe the plan is to close the whole thing down now and try to redevelop the place into bars and eateries for the new Leeds Arena.
Returning to the Merrion Centre proper, at the main indoor atrium entrance to Morrisons, let us pause a while to consider the blank wall opposite. Why is it blank? Shouldn't there be shops there? Well, beyond it lies a secret that only the Urban Explorers whisper about now. You see, a large Odeon Cinema opened in the Merrion Centre and although it closed in 1977, it still resides behind blanked-off doors within the building, it's seventies concession stands still intact, its vast main screen still waiting in the darkness, presumably ready to show the première of Star Wars yet.
I'll not enter Morrisons at this point - it was just a gloomy supermarket as I recall. Unremarkable, and certainly not as down-at-heel as Kwik-Save (with its depressing torn open cardboard boxes presenting the merchandise). Instead, let us proceed to the middle of the Centre where an odd central column contains a door and steps leading down into darkness. What is this?
Why it's Bar Phono, the north's finest dingy basement club! Starting as The WigWam Club in the 70s, in its gothic heyday in the 80s Le Phonographique (as was) claimed to have invented the classic goth 2-step backwards-forwards dance. A swift boogie on its tiny "dancefloor" soon explained away this claim to fame - On the stickiest linoleum imaginable with nary 12 feet from wall to wall, an imposing structural pillar stood slap in the middle of the space. So, dancing backwards and forwards in this tiny corner was de rigeur. I have fond memories of the place, even though I was far too late to see it in its prime. Student nurses in black fishnets or black wedding dresses. Surly but gentle chaps with black nailpolish. Pints of snakebite. All good fun.
Swiftly moving on towards the Merrion Street entrance, one passed a large glass display cabinet containing an odd contraption,
The Featherstone-Kite Openwork Basketweave Mark Two Gentleman’s Flying Machine.
This is the work of Rowland Emett, and can also be seen in
this Pathé video. Emett was a type of Heath Robinson style inventor, and was also responsible for one of my favourite memories of childhood, the
The Aqua Tintinnabulator water clock found in Nottingham's Victoria Centre. So the guy had a rep for adding a touch of wonder to many an urban shopping experience.
Okay folks, I'm all out of Merrion Centre memories now. Hope this brought back a happy memory or two to anybody out there. Please comment if you have any you'd like to share.
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