St Mark Street

If there were an award for the most uninspiring street in Hull, then it would surely go to St Mark Street, just to the north east of the city centre.

The streetscene is today dominated by stark and dull palisade fencing around non-descript light industrial premises. There is no residential presence whatsoever.

It is one of those areas where after normal business hours there is nothing to bring or cause people to stay.

It is sad to think that the street was once vibrant and home to many in forecourt frontage and small pedestrian terraces set off the roadway.

As an indication of the vitality of St Mark Street some 41 in number of its young men were sent away to the First World War. A good proportion of these never returned. If you roll back another 60 years or so from this enforced depopulation then you would see the beginnings of that community.

In 1855 the street was dominated by St Mark's Church which could seat 1135 according to the Ordnance Survey mapping. A Vicarage, from the one dimensional footprint, evidently quite a grand place followed shortly after.

By 1891 various trades and factories had moved in at the western end closest to Cleveland Street which ran down towards the riverfront dock basins and wharfage. This included a Blue and Black Lead manufacturer and the distinctive roundels of the holders of The Sutton, Sculcoates and Drypool Gas Company.

A Directory of residents for 1892 recorded such tradespersons as tinners, engineers, a gardener, grocers, waggonette proprietor and landlady's of lodging houses on the main thoroughfare or in the terraces off which were named Susannah's, Janes, Symons and George's.

There were enough children in the early 1890's to justify construction of a school directly behind the church and employment to support the locals including a further Starch Works and Iron Foundry.

The eastern end of the street crossed a watercourse known as Foredyke Stream which bisected the city before discharging into the tidal River Humber and out to the North Sea.

In the years after the First World War the area will have experienced the same socio-economic highs and lows that affected the nation and much of the western world. Residents will have drifted off into better perceived parts of a growing Port City, to healthier and greener suburbs and other forms of employment. This migration will have, in its way, saved many from death and injury during the relentless bombing of Hull by the Luftwaffe which saw, on a citywide basis, 1200 civilians killed and 86715 homes damaged leaving only just under 6000 properties intact.

A map of the blitz on Hull shows a concentration of high explosive bomb impacts on and around St Mark Street indicating that the Gas Company was a primary target as well as the dispersed industrial buildings no doubt because of their contribution to the war effort in their own small but important ways.

The landmark Church was bombed and was eventually demolished in 1958, the school already being denoted as a ruin by this time. The cleared site became a yard to store the timber imports arriving in the Eastern Docks from Scandinavia and Russia.

The densely packed housing, by mid 20th Century standards, was now considered insanitary and was gradually knocked down and left as vacant sites until being covered by large steel portal frame sheds and warehouses. The ugly palisade fencing soon followed.

Uninspiring it may be now but this accolade should not commit the street to anonymity.

I was talking to a longstanding local just a few days ago and a story of his gave me some encouragement that St Mark Street will never be forgotten as a valuable neighbourhood in its time.

As a night shift worker in a fruit and vegetable wholesalers on St Mark Street in the 1990's he and a co-worker witnessed first hand some very strange goings-on.

Wooden boxes full of produce would with regularity and  without warning, fly violently off the racking in the warehouse.

Shadowy figures suddenly materialised  to stand and peer through upstairs windows. If you stared back or blinked they would move off but without casting a shadow or passing other windows on the same level.

On one particular shift at about 3am a terrible sound was heard out in the delivery yard.
It was a constant and pitiful wailing.

The co-workers at first thought it to be from  babes and infants but given the industrial surroundings this was just not a possibility.

Their curiosity overruled any feelings of fear and dread.

The source of the cacophony was a large collection of domestic cats, their appearance indicating well cared for pets rather than feral by nature. This was unusual as the nearest homes were about half a mile away.

Resembling what could easily have been a staged calendar shoot the creatures were all facing the same way towards a narrow foot passage as though awaiting or in fear of something or someone.

The arrival of the workers caused the cats to immediately silence.

There was a strange piercing silence before footsteps could be heard deep in the darkness of the foot way. Amplified by the confines of that space the footfalls were clear and distinct. It was a heavy booted sound, the sort produced by a thick leather sole. The deeper tones were interspersed by a lighter metallic resonance as though from a loose buckled strap. There was no-one to be seen from where the steps originated.

The co-workers were rooted to the spot in the yard, too scared to move let alone make a run for the building. The steady pace continued, progressively nearer from across the empty street. The metronome rhythm had a spellbinding effect.

A collision between entity and humans seemed imminent.

The parties were almost, audibly, toe to toe, face to face and then ......nothing.

The story was told to me in great detail as it had obviously been recounted many, many times before.

The arrival of the dawn must have been most welcome after the events of the early hours on that day. The two workers refused thereafter to take the night shift after what they had witnessed even though they had to endure considerable scepticism and mockery from colleagues and acquaintances.

I like to think that the St Mark Street spirits was just offering up a small reminder of its past and in a very effective way, not too menacing and with a lot of mischief. The leather soles will have been similar to those worn by manual workers in the foundry, starch or blue lead industries. You will have seen the type in grainy old black and white films.

Although such movies will have been either silent, dubbed or heavily over-scored in an Imperious soundtrack there will have been an implied metallic resonance from the small fastening buckles so characteristic of artisan footwear of that era.