I find this a very interesting aspect of my work and with the amount of archived information in the public domain it is a very much easier exercise than when I first started in the Surveying Profession over 30 years ago.
My first job in Hull in 1985 was for a long established company, in fact celebrating their centenary in that very year.
In a large multi-drawer chest in the Georgian era offices was an unrivalled collection of Ordnance Survey Maps for the area, many of them printed on hessian or canvas. If I needed any essential background information on a specific bit of land or individual property these were vital in that they were superbly detailed as you would expect from documents issued on behalf of The Crown. They were superb examples of the art of Topographers and you could not avoid just gawping in admiration at the detail and print quality.
What struck me, as a relative newcomer to Hull in the 1980's was the huge amount of housing and buildings in general that no longer existed around the central area of the city in particular.
Street maps even from the early to mid 20th Century were a dark mass of structures from high density slums to expansive premises and large districts in commercial and industrial use.
Their demise and in such quantity and area had been a combination of intentional Borough clearance of the substandard residential properties, heavy wartime bombing and from the 1950's a ruthless demolition of just about everything else including whole streets what would be considered today to be prime candidates for gentrification and sympathetic restoration.
The rich maritime heritage of Hull, unfortunately, also fell in large swaths to the same forces, whether supposedly friendly or marauding airborne foe.
Little remains of the quayside warehousing and only the Old Town and High Street retain landmark and historic buildings in any concentration.
Pausing to scan old maps is really the only way to appreciate what Hull used to look like and yes, it was as grand, wealthy and a prestigious place as you would fully expect for such a rich history, and strategic and economic clout at various times in the story of the country.
One very interesting physical feature that popped up during my investigation of former land use in what is now an area of regenerated former docklands and railway sidings was a large circular building which I can only really describe as looking like the spaceship from Star Wars, The Millenium Falcon just sat awaiting refuelling or re-supply before another intergalactic adventure.
The map labelling indicates it to be The Borough Gaol and House of Correction- a fancy name for a Municipal Prison.
The location may seem unusual in that it is in a fully built up urban area, adjacent to housing, and for those plotting an escape there are good transport links in the form of freight rail lines and shipping quays.
It is this latter piece of infrastructure that gives a clue as to the positioning of the prison.
It was primarily to temporarily hold convicts awaiting penal transportation to the Colonies.
The building was erected in or around 1829 as a replacement for Hull Bridewell and older premises on Fetter Lane in the Old Town area.
Its design will have been quite revolutionary and innovative comprising a central hub which contained the control room and from this in a spoked arrangement the five main wings of cells and for the ancillary and support services required for the day to day management and services.
I have not seen anything similar in any other city and urban areas.
For all of its aesthetics and functionality it will have been a grim establishment and particular so for the 650 of its inmates who did eventually get shipped out to serve their time on the other side of the world.
One famous episode involving an inmate was the well documented escape of Thomas Foster on 2nd June 1860. He was serving two sentences, the first being 7 years for breaking into a slaughterhouse and attempting to steal two legs of pork and the other just 3 months for assaulting the arresting Police Constable. He was put to work in the Borough Gaol making mats out of cocoa fibres. Somehow and likely down to lax supervision he was able to make, out of the fibre, a rope some 51 feet long which he used to escape from his cell on the third floor with the aid of a grappling hook.
The building closed in 1869 and all traces had disappeared from Ordnance Survey maps by around 1891 making way for an engine shed and extensive dockside railway sidings.
As I stood in the kitchen of the modern town house that now occupies the very same piece of ground I felt a shiver down the length of my spine at the thought of those souls who had trodden there before me.
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