Ber Street

In the mid-1930s, Hastings the greengrocers, at No 1 Ber Street, stood on the corner of All Saints’ Street and in the way of its planned widening. In a letter to the Press dated 30th September 1936, “S.E.G.” (Colonel S. E. Glendenning) wrote:

As each section of this huge scheme comes up for action, it becomes obvious how destructive it will be of all that has given character and interest to Norwich, without even making it a well planned modern city. As an example, I see in an advertisement in today’s Evening News that it is proposed to destroy one of the most prominent 16th century buildings in Norwich - Hastings’ greengrocers’ shop at the city end of Ber Street.

In the face of this and other representations the Council were persuaded to change their minds, and three years later recommended that the widening should take place on the north side instead. The Germans were not so accommodating, however, and during the air raid of 27th June 1942, in the same blaze which destroyed Bond’s large department store, this old house was so badly damaged as to necessitate its complete demolition a few months later.

In the Norfolk Annual published in October 1937, there appeared a photograph by William Buston of this building, taken from the entrance to Golden Ball Street, and captioned “Corner Doomed to Destruction” - an accurate prophecy, although not for the reason the photographer had envisaged.

Other property destroyed during the June raids included No 16 Ber Street, opposite Bonds and adjoining Mason’s Court. This was a small house and shop, the upper front plaster faced, the roof surmounted by an unusually wide dormer lit by two casement windows. For many years the shop was occupied by G. J. Woods and Son, Chair, Basket and Sieve Works, established 1832, as announced by the facia board. In a description of the business published in 1940 it was stated that it was probably the only place in England where sedge horse-collars were still made. Other articles included cycle baskets made with reddish-brown osiers - “buff” to the trade - and “wilshes”, - the basketwork nozzles used by those who brew their own beer; these fit over the inside end of the tap and act as strainers of the solid matter - the body of the malt and hops.

On the same night Bond’s was burning, so too were the nearby church of St Michael-at-Thorn and a pair of thatched cottages in Windmill Alley (below). These cottages faced the north side of the church and had had their roofing renewed only five years previously. Mr Woodcock of St Faith’s had carried out the work, using reeds from Hickling. The old thatch he found had been bound with tough bramble stems, a very old method, but he himself used hooks.

The building had several other points of interest. The back wall, for instance, was a strange mixture of bricks and flint. Some years before the war, too, when the floor of a bedroom was being repaired, a layer of squared flints had been discovered between the boards and the downstairs ceiling. Was this an early attempt at soundproofing, one wonders?

The church of St Michael-at-Thorn (below) stood at the edge of the Ber Street ridge, overlooking the Wensum valley. On its south side Thorn Lane led steeply downhill into King Street, but since the area was redeveloped in the early 1960s it terminates at Rouen Road.

The church was completely gutted by the incendiary raid, leaving only the walls and tower standing. As described by Ian Hannah, the building was partly built in 1430 but largely modern. It consisted of a square west tower, nave with north aisle and south porch, and a chancel. The original tower collapsed in 1886 and was rebuilt in the following year. To judge from the view in Sillett’s Norwich Churches, published in 1828, the style of the modern work followed very closely that of the old.

Latterly the tower contained only one bell, but John L’Estrange noted in 1874 that “There were three bells here until about 1838, when the two largest were sold, to help to build a hideous north aisle, recently replaced by a much more comely structure. They are now the first and second bells at Bale, near Holt. The inscription on 2, ‘Nobis Succurre Michael Raphael Gabriel Quaesumus’, is unique.” On the remaining bell he observed the following inscription: “Pack and Chapman of London Fecit 1777. John Spratt and Henry Warns Ch. Wardens.”

The main entrance to the church was through the porch and south doorway (below); the latter was Norman probably the oldest remaining part of the building. Having survived the blitz it was later dismantled and re-erected in the rebuilt St Julian’s church. It is described as having a shaft on either side supporting a round-headed arch with cable and zig-zag ornaments, with one of the billets of an outer moulding carved into a queer little animal. According to White’s Norfolk directory of 1833 the door was then still in possession of its ancient ironwork.

Turning our attention to the interior (below), an octagonal font with shields constituted about the only ancient fitting. All the woodwork was modern, including a fine roodscreen surmounted with a St Michael’s cross.

The historian Francis Blomefield wrote that the living “was anciently a Rectory appendant to the Castle, until the Conqueror gave it to FitzWalter along with St Martin at the Bale.” The latter, also known as St Martin-in-Balliva, stood anciently on a triangular piece of ground close by the entrance to Golden Ball Street, near the principal entrance to the barbican of the Castle, but was demolished in 1562 when the parish was united to that of St Michael. The strange title of the church stems from its having been built within the bailey, the outer courtyard of the castle.

In 1926 a chapel in St Michael’s was dedicated to the patron saint of the Bale to perpetuate this association with St Martin’s. In the registers, which date from 1562, are records of burials here of many of the criminals who were executed on the Castle hill.

With regard to the dedication - or rather the “surname” - of the church, Blomefield mentions that it is “called in antient evidences, St Michael in Berstreet, and ad Spinas or at the Thorns, and even to this Day, a very large Thorn remains growing in the Churchyard. I find it also in the most antient Deeds called St Michael Super Montem, or St Miles on the Hill from its situation”.

To the last, thorn trees continued growing in the churchyard, though perhaps not the same ones to which Blomefield referred. The name of Thorn Lane is comparatively modern, for two centuries ago it was known as Sandgate, no doubt from the nature of the soil there.

In July and August 1952, the tower and all other remains were demolished, and the site was converted into a private car park.

Since the war much of the east side of the street has undergone redevelopment as part of the larger scheme involving the whole area between here and King Street. Although this had been largely filled by nineteenth-century cottages of a poor standard, a number of houses in Ber Street itself were much older, including gabled houses at Nos 72-78. No 72 was the George IV public house; having been kept in good condition, it remained until some time after the war, but Nos 74-78 (left) were in a shocking state when photographed in 1936 and were demolished soon after.

A few yards further south along the street a portion of St Bartholomew’s tower (below left) stands preserved among a block of new dwellings. Secularised after the Reformation, the church was then adapted for other uses, and as late as the 1930s most of the nave and part of the chancel remained, largely hidden from view by slaughterhouses and other buildings. Brought to light only in recent years, it offers slight compensation for the loss of St Michael.

No 120 Ber Street (above right), once the Recruiting Sergeant public house, was another building of interest dating from Tudor times. It had a timber frame with jettied first floor, the whole being concealed by a covering of plaster. In 1961, however, a small portion of this fell away, leaving one or two of the old beams with their clay and brick infillings (right) exposed to view - but not for long, for all was soon to be cleared away when the whole area was redeveloped.

Another loss, due this time to redevelopment was that of 126-128 Ber Street (left), three doors north of Mariners Lane. What made these houses unusual was a shared roof of thatch, No 126 also having a large dormer lit by a “weaver’s” window. Writing in Norfolk Archaeology in 1917 J. T. Hotblack listed sixteen tenements with thatched roofs in eleven situations as then existing within the city walls. Of this number only six now survive. They are: 20 Westlegate; Briton’s Arms, Elm Hill; 53 Bishopgate; St Swithin’s Alley; Pykerell’s House, St Mary’s Plain; and a cottage in Lion and Castle Yard, Timberhill.

The reason for this rarity within a county so plentifully endowed with reed and straw is the number of serious fires that devastated the city in the sixteenth century. The first enactment to safeguard against this danger was made on 18th May 1509, when the City Assembly decreed:

That in future all buildings within the City which shall be rebuilt anew, shall be covered with Thaktyle and by no means with reed straw called thakke under the penalty of 20s. for every offence of every house or building detected, to be paid by the proprietor thereof, to the use of the community.

This by-law was repealed in 1532, however, because the high cost of tiles proved such a deterrent to rebuilding. Moreover an Act of Parliament passed in 1534 had been foreshadowed whereby the city became liable to rebuild any burnt houses at public cost, in default of the owners so doing. Not until the more prosperous year of 1570 was the thatching of new houses finally prohibited by the passing of a series of general fire orders.

Proceeding southwards we pass the top of Mariner’s Lane, now terminating in a cul-de-sac, but which before the construction of Rouen Road descended the hill to join King Street.

A little further, and facing the east end of the church of St John-de-Sepulchre, is a Georgian mansion - Ber House (right), flanked on each side by a Tudor cottage. That to the north (No 156) and its Tudor partner (No 160) are considered to be the wings remaining from a previous important building known as Black’s Hall, the site of which is now covered by Ber House.

Although there is a legend that it was from here that the Black Prince once distributed largesse to the poor of the city, it is more likely that the name “Black’s Hall” is derived from that of William Blackamore, who is recorded as the owner in Edward III’s time.

By the 1940s, the two cottages had fallen into a deplorable condition, in particular No 160, which had “dangerous structure” notices posted on it. Fortunately in 1949 they were taken in hand by Christopher Perks and Sidney Glendenning, who restored them to their present admirable condition.

No 160 was then described as having been built about 1450, with the upper part added about 1590 and the dormer a few years later. The accommodation - light airy, and well proportioned - included a large sitting room, two bedrooms, a spacious loft and bathroom, large cellars and a small kitchen. Although five hundred years old, the structure was found to be in excellent order and quite sound: even the main roof beams being intact.

At the southern end of Ber Street is a short battlemented section of the city wall adjoining the site of Ber Street gate.

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