Introduction

The history of Nottingham’s Hospitals has long been an interest of mine having worked in the National Health Service for thirty years in Nottingham. As a consequence, my research into Nottingham’s Hospitals began in earnest almost twenty years ago when I began looking into the history of the Nottingham City Hospital. My interest grew from the fact that I had worked previously at the Nottingham General Hospital, which was, before the inception of the National Health Service, a Voluntary Hospital (in other words it was financed entirely by charitable donations and legacies), and as a consequence had a considerable amount of history written about it. On the other hand Nottingham City Hospital had very little written about it, except a small booklet written by the late Consultant Physician, Dr. James Macfie, entitled: ‘From Bagthorpe to the City.’ Another reason for wanting to research the history of Nottingham City Hospital, was that when I began my research in 1996 I realized that in seven years’ time, in 2003, the hospital would be celebrating its centenary, and that I wanted to write a book to celebrate this fact!

Rather than trying to explain the complexities of the research I went into, and the problems I encountered from people trying to put me off, saying it would never work, and trying to convince a moribund senior management of the importance of celebrating the hospitals centenary, the fact that my book was published on the 18th March, 2003, the day of the hospital’s centenary celebrations, speaks for itself The book was entitled: ‘The Peoples Hospital’ and was a co-authorship with David Lowe from the Nottingham Evening Post. This was followed by another book entitled: ‘Sawbones to Keyholes:’ The Lives of the Presidents of the Nottingham Medico-Chirurgical Society, 1828 – 2002. This was a book that began out of casual interest and grew into a book more out of accident than design. As a consequence, members of the Nottingham Medico-Chirurgical Society became interested in what I was doing and encouraged me to go on and publish my work, which was published in the same year as the Nottingham City Hospital’s centenary, 2003.

Since all the events that took place in 2003 surrounding the Nottingham City Hospitals centenary celebrations, much has changed in health care in Nottingham. No more are the Queen’s Medical Centre and the Nottingham City Hospital two separate Trusts. Just four years after the City Hospital’s centenary celebrations, the Trusts of the Q.M.C. and City Hospital were amalgamated to form the Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust. Apart from all the administrative changes that took place, and for some a change in working practices, I viewed this as an opportunity to branch out further and, to widen the scope beyond the City Hospital, by looking into the history of Nottingham other hospitals. To do this I asked if I could become the Honorary Archivist for the Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust.

With the amalgamation of the two hospital Trusts and the title of Honorary Archivist, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust I was given a large amount of photographs and other memorabilia that would otherwise have been thrown away. If it had been thrown away there would have been no legacy to pass on to a future generation! What has been a great boon to my research, and also to bring to the public, the history of Nottingham’s Hospitals is the Nottingham Hospitals History website and its related Facebook page. The website came about by encouragement from Mr. Martyn Belcher the Trust’s pest control officer. Who not only keeps vermin at bay for the two hospitals but has extensive knowledge of information technology and website construction. So it to him I say thanks for assisting me in further expanding the interest of the history of Nottingham’s hospitals.

With the interest in the history of Nottingham’s Hospitals at a level I never imagined, and as an off shoot, the many requests for talks I receive from local history groups and societies, I still occasionally write articles that have found publication in Nottingham [Evening] Post.

The articles I have written, which make up this book, are articles that were published between 2011 and 2015. All the articles written in that four year timespan, reflect the current thinking of the time. For example, the article ‘The Nottingham General Hospital Twenty Years On’, which was written in 2011, is a personal reflection of my experiences of working at the General Hospital from 1980 to the time of the announcement of its closure in 1989, which begins by charting the many environmental changes that have been made to Nottingham’s Built Environment, in particular the mushrooming of large multi-storey buildings, and after an absence of 68 years, the re-introduction of Nottingham’s tram network.

The second article, ‘What was so special about the Nottingham General Hospital,’ also written in 2011 is an article which I begin by asking the question: ‘What was so special about a collection of grade two listed Victorian buildings on the fringes of the Park Estate that was once the Nottingham General Hospital?’ In answering this question I refer very much to the mystique the General Hospital still has for those who once worked there, and the regal status it once held over its much larger neighbour, the Nottingham City Hospital.

The third article, entitled: ‘Nottingham’s Healthcare Development was financially supported by the Tobacco Industry,’ was written in 2012, the year of the London Olympics. In this article I discuss the financing of hospitals like the Nottingham General Hospital, which, as already pointed out, before the inception of the N.H.S. in 1948 was a voluntary hospital, relying entirely on legacies and donations and its association with Nottingham’s Tobacco industry, John Player and Sons. In the opening paragraphs of the article, I widen the scope a little to discuss sponsorship of major sporting events, like the London Olympics, and the need to avoid pricking the public’s moral conscience, which it did, when it was discovered that one of the sponsorship deals signed for the 2012 Olympics was awarded to a chemical firm reputed to be responsible for the production of Agent Orange, a chemical that was used during the Vietnam War. I then go on to say, mention the words ‘tobacco company sponsorship’ and any grumblings over a chemical firm’s sponsorship deal is eclipsed by the paroxysms of rage coming from hand wringing members of the public. In answer to tobacco company sponsorship, I reply by saying, ‘the fallout from tobacco sponsorship comes mainly because we are aware of the harmful effects that tobacco usage can bring,’ This is concluded by saying, ‘turn the clock back to the early part of the 20th century and the story is quite different,’ which is where I discuss the philanthropic generosity of the Player family to Nottingham’s three voluntary hospitals in the early part of the 20th century.

The forth article, an article written in 2015 and published online, entitled: ‘The Nottingham General Hospital: A Two Hundred and Eleven Years Relationship’ is an illustrated article charting the rapid environmental changes that have taken place since the closure of the Nottingham General Hospital in 1993, and the buildings that still remain, like former hospital wards and staff accommodation that have been converted into luxury apartments, and the former casualty department, which is now a nouveau cuisine restaurant.

The fifth article, an article that was published on the Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. website, entitled: ‘A Short History of the Nottingham Children’s Hospital,’ was written after the joining together at the Q.M.C. of the two children’s units at the City Hospital and the unit already based at Q.M.C. in 2008 to re-establish the Nottingham Children’s Hospital. In this article I discuss the separate histories of the two children’s units; how one hospital grew out of the old Poor Law (Nottingham City Hospital), and how the other was established at the former Nottingham General Hospital in 1869, moved to Forest House in Nottingham’s Mapperley Park Estate, the home of Thomas Birkin in 1900, where it remained until its transfer to the Q.M.C. in the November of 1978. As both hospitals have two separate histories it should be remembered that as we are now in the 21st Century, it is hard to imagine how much progress has been made in paediatric medicine. In a

2 way, the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Queen’s Medical Centre has it all under one roof, which until recently seemed impossible. What I have attempted, through this article, apart from discussing its history is to make people realise just what excellent facilities there now are, and how appreciative we should be of them!

The sixth article entitled: “The Former Mapperley Hospital Chapel, Restorations Forgotten Building,” is an article which is focused on the conversion and restoration of many of Nottingham’s former hospital buildings and their subsequent Grade Two listed status with particular attention focused on the former Mapperley Hospital chapel and recreation hall, also a Grade Two listed building, but in an extremely dilapidated state. As you read through, apart from mentioning the restored buildings at the former Nottingham General Hospital, I pay particular attention to the restored and converted buildings that were once wards on the former Mapperley Hospital campus. I particularly mention how one section has been converted into offices for Nottingham Healthcare N.H.S. Trust and subsequently renamed Duncan Macmillan House, after the pioneering consultant psychiatrist. Whilst the other section has been converted into luxury apartments with the neglected chapel and recreation hall sitting in between these two sections. This, as the title suggests is ‘Restorations Forgotten Building.’ As you will see I ask one simple question: “Why a building that has the same Grade Two listed status as the other buildings throughout the complex has been allowed to be left to stand and simply rot? The answer I give as a conclusion is I am fully aware that not all old buildings can be restored. But what I would welcome is the opportunity to sit around a table and discuss ideas before it is too late and it falls even more into disrepair and becomes prey to further environmental hazards and consequently becomes even more expensive to repair.

The seventh article entitled: “A World War One Memorial: To those who ended their lives in Hospital, is an article written not only to mark the centenary of the outbreak of World War One but to draw the public’s attention to an often neglected war memorial that stands in Nottingham’s General Cemetery that pays homage to all those who died during and after World War One in Nottingham’s Hospitals. Evidence of which can be seen by the 130 names on the screen wall behind the cross of sacrifice and the gravestones in the immediate area bearing the names of those who died during those four years of conflict. Apart from drawing the public’s attention to the World War One Memorial, the article was originally written to give notice of my intention of conducting a small Service of Remembrance on Sunday 9th November, 2014 where I asked members of staff from Nottingham’s two main hospitals to join me. As the date in the article since has passed, the success of the Service of Remembrance has been mentioned in a footnote to the article, where it has been decided to hold a Service at the World War One Memorial in 2018 to mark the ending of World War One, and as a tradition, a wreath of poppies to be laid at subsequent Remembrance Sundays at the Memorial Gardens, Victoria Embankment, Trent Bridge Nottingham.

The eighth article, originally published in December, 2011, entitled: “The Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham’s Medical Metropolis,” is an article where I discuss how the University Hospital, Queen’s Medical Centre came into being. As you will see it all began way back in in July 1964, when a decision was announced in Parliament that Nottingham, the city chosen, was to have a new University Hospital and Medical School. Originally it was intended that building work would begin in 1968 to be finished by 1973. Unfortunately that was not to be. This is because before building work could commence those in authority whose job it was to steer the whole project through to its successful conclusion were met with stiff opposition from local residents and businesses in the area where the hospital and medical school were to be built. As a result this delayed the whole building process by three years, which meant it was 1971 before demolition and building work could begin.

As you will also see, once opened the Q.M.C. courted controversy by its sheer size, which in a debate in the Houses of Parliament in July 1979 the then North Nottingham M.P. William Whitlock said “the University Hospital was too big.” This was followed up in July 1982, when in an Evening Post interview the Rushcliffe M.P. Kenneth Clarke mischievously described the University Hospital as a “monument of folly.” Adding to this controversy, the Q.M.C. brought many of Nottingham’s smaller, and dare I say, much loved hospitals under one roof, which did not endear Nottingham’s public to this huge metropolis built on the western fringes of the city. As you read through, with ever mounting costs involved in its opening, you begin to wonder how the whole project ever left the drawing board in the first place. However, it is worth bearing in mind, when thinking of the demands placed on today’s National Health Service, then think of how the old hospitals which the Q.M.C. replaced, coped with these demands! In today’s day and age, as much as we loved those old hospitals, and cherish fond memories, those old hospitals, which pre-date the National Health Service would not be able to cope with the demands that would be placed on them. Therefore, hospitals like the Q.M.C. and its attached medical school had to happen, without it the world renowned centre for medical excellence that Nottingham is would never have taken place.

The ninth article entitled: “Queen’s Medical Centre, the first forty years, looking ahead to 2017,” is a follow up from the previous article about the Q.M.C. whereby I discuss what makes the Q.M.C. what it is, and a look ahead to 2017 and its fortieth anniversary.

I can be said, the Q.M.C. is what it is, a hybrid hospital. In other words, it is a collection of Nottingham’s former hospitals that became part of the establishment of the Q.M.C., as more departments were transferred, in its formative years, from other hospitals. In this article I also point out that the Q.M.C. was designed specifically as a purpose built hospital building, which has added to this hybrid theory. As Q.M.C. was designed and constructed as a purpose built hospital, this leads on to point out that somewhere within our collective psyche, we see old buildings, especially hospital buildings, as something which is safe, reliable and dependable, and something that last will last for generations to come. However, these buildings cannot last forever. In other words, they cannot halt the continuous march of progress. There maybe those who will continue to say: “the Queen’s is too big,” but without the Q.M.C., Nottingham as a world renowned centre for medical research would be a backwater. Finally, as a look ahead to the Q.M.C’s. fortieth anniversary in 2017, and in conclusion, the question I ask is this: ‘Will the Q.M.C. continue to grow?’ In answer to that question I say that apart from the Q.M.C. now linked up to Nottingham’s Tram Network and having its own tram stop, and a proposed multi-storey carpark complete with a helipad, I feel it will continue to grow as a teaching and caring environment, as it adapts to the many challenges that lie ahead, and indeed develops new methods in health care provision, fit for a health service of the 21st century.

The tenth and final article entitled: “1950s: The Cold War, Civil Defence, The UK’s Reluctant Volunteers” is an academically written article with referencing and a bibliography. My interest in writing this article stems from paperwork I discovered at the Nottingham City Hospital, dated from 1954 and refers to the formation of a civil defence corps, and the difficulties hospital management encountered trying to muster interest from reluctant staff members on account of war weariness.

In light of the dawning of the nuclear age and the tension built up between Russia and America and her allies this article is about the governments need to re-establish the UKs civil defence network after World War Two in an era that became known as the ‘Cold War.’ The article begins by discussing my interest in how the government used colourful posters to entice people to ‘do their bit for the country during World War Two

I then go on show two photographs from the same period. One photograph of City Hospital staff on the hospital grounds filling sandbags, and another of consultants wearing steel helmets, with white coats, carrying their gasmasks, topped off with stethoscopes around their necks. All of this is to portray a vision of preparedness, and at the same time displaying a little wartime jingoism, as it was this image that authorities tried using again in post-war civil defence recruiting campaigns as the main driving force in the years after 1948. In this article I briefly discuss the use of the atomic bomb in 1945 against Japan, and the public’s response, and then go on to discuss the scientific advances of nuclear weapons capability and its consequences should a weapon of such mass destruction be used against a country the size of the UK. With war weariness still in mind I move the discussion on to the reasons given as to why there was a lack of interest in civil defence volunteering. In discussing this issue, I use secondary source and the primary source information from the paperwork I discovered at the Nottingham City Hospital. Coupled in with war weariness was the knowledge and capabilities of nuclear weapons, which were the two main reasons as to why there was great difficulty in recruiting volunteers into the civil defence organisation. Another reason as to why there was a great reluctance from members of the public to the re- establishment of the UKs civil defence corps, Britain after WWII was a different country, although emerging victorious was financially bankrupt and was reliant on the Americans. So much so, that before Britain’s post-war reconstruction could begin, a heavily conditional loan had to be brokered with the US. Another major change to the UK was her standing on the world’s stage. From 1945 onwards, Britain began the process of decolonisation, beginning as it did in 1947 with the independence of the Indian sub-continent. Finally, and to bring the topic up-to-date, I have included in my research a footnote. This I have done to demonstrate the point of how the knowledge of nuclear weapons has advanced, and to conclude that although the Cold War is over, whilst some are still in the development stage, rouge states now have nuclear capabilities, and as a consequence the world is less stable now than at any time during the Cold War.

Paul R. Swift B.A. Honorary Archivist, Nottingham University Hospitals, N.H.S. Trust February, 2016

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Photographs and Illustrations

1. Nottingham General Hospital 1782, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 2. Trent Wing, circa 1970s: Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 3. Main Entrance to Harts Restaurant, 2011: Paul R. Swift 4. Nottingham General Hospital, 1959: Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 5. Children’s Hospital Extension: Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 6. Ropewalk House, former Nottingham General Hospital: Paul R. Swift 7. Player Wing, General Hospital. Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 8. Jubilee Wing, former Nottingham General Hospital 2011: Paul R. Swift 9. Pay Bed Wing, Nottingham General Hospital: Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 10. Ropewalk Wing, 1960, Nottingham General Hospital, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 11. Charles House, 2014, former Nottingham General Hospital, Paul R. Swift 12. Former Casualty Department now premises of Hart’s Restaurant, Paul R. Swift, 2014 13. Tower House, 2014, Former Nottingham General Hospital, Paul R. Swift 14. The Round House Pub, 2014, Former Nottingham General Hospital, Paul R. Swift 15. Jubilee Wing (Roundhouse), 2012, Former Nottingham General Hospital, Paul R. Swift 16. Memorial Nurses Home (Royal Standard House), Former Nottingham General Hospital, Paul R. Swift, 2012 17. No. 5, Newcastle Drive, Park Estate, Nottingham, Paul R. Swift, 2014 18. 1869: Russell House, Postern Street, Nottingham (unknown) 19. 1903: The City Hospital as the Bagthorpe Workhouse and Infirmary, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 20. Forest House, 1900 (unknown) 21. A Viewing Platform, Paul R. Swift 22. Nottingham Children’s Hospital Rules for In-Patient (unknown) 23. The treatment of ‘Fresh Air’ for tuberculosis suffers, Nottingham City Hospital (unknown) 24. Children’s Ward, Russell House, Postern Street, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 25. Duchess of Portland Ward, 1900 (unknown) 26. Children’s Ward 1925, Nottingham City Hospital, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 27. The Player Wing, Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Forest House (unknown) 28. The Official Opening ceremony led by Princess Mary and John Dane Player, Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Forest House, (unknown) 29. Photograph of a child’s head on a drainpipe, Paul R. Swift, 1981 30. Notice from the 1943 Nottingham General Hospital Annual General Meeting, Nottingham City Hospital, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 31. Notice from the 1943 Nottingham Children’s Hospital Annual General Meeting, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 32. Operating Theatre 1927, Nottingham Children's Hospital (unknown) 33. Operating Theatre, August 1978, Nottingham Children’s Hospital (unknown) 34. City Hospital's First Operating Theatre, 1925, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 35. Visitors to the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, (unknown) 36. 1969: Before construction, the site of where the Queen’s Medical Centre is today, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 37. May 1972: The Queen’s Medical Centre during construction, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive.

38. The Queen’s Medical Centre Main Entrance, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 39. Mapperley Hospital Chapel, Paul R. Swift, 2012 40. Former General Hospital A&E, now a Restaurant, Paul R. Swift, 2011 41. Former Mapperley Hospital, now Duncan Macmillan House, Paul R. Swift, 2012 42. Former hospital wards now converted into apartments, Paul R. Swift, 2012 43. Former Hospital Wards, South Facing, Paul R. Swift, 2012 44. The Chapel and Theatre at the former Mapperley Hospital Grade Two Listed 8 January 2003 English Heritage Building ID: 489931, Paul R. Swift, 2012 45. Example of Neglect, Chapel Organ, Paul R. Swift, 2012 46. Former Hospital Chapel, Paul R. Swift, 2012 47. Former Nottingham General Chapel Hospital Chapel, Paul R. Swift, 2012 48. Nottingham General Hospital Chapel 1980s (unknown) 49. Photograph of Star Venting, Paul R. Swift, 2012 50. The Menin Gate, Ypres, Belgium, Paul R. Swift, 2013 51. World War One Memorial, Nottingham’s General Cemetery, Paul R. Swift, 2013 52. Photograph of section of the Screen Wall, Nottingham’s General Cemetery, Paul R. Swift, 2013 53. 1969: The site of what is now the campus to the Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 54. 1972: The Construction of the Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 55. 1970’s: Still under construction, the first aerial photograph of the Queen’s Medical Centre (unknown) 56. 1977: West Block Main Entrance, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 57. 2009: West Block Main Entrance, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 58. 2010: Aerial Photograph, Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive. 59. The former hospitals that go to make up the Q.M.C., the General, the Women’s, the Eye Infirmary, the Children’s and Harlow Wood Hospitals. Paul R. Swift 60. 1969: Q.M.C. site before construction began in 1971, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 61. 1973: Construction of the West Block, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 62. A tram is seen crossing the Ningbo Friendship Bridge, Paul R. Swift, 2015 63. Artist’s impression of the proposed multi-storey car park and helipad, (Google) 64. 1939 Photograph of hospital staff filling sandbags (unknown) 65. 1939 Photograph of consultant medical staff, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 66. WWII ARP services at work (Google) 67. Mid 1950’s: Nottingham City Hospital NHSR Rescue Team, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive 68. Mid-1950’s: NHSR Civil Defence Exercise, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust Archive ______

Contents

Introduction. 1

Photographs and Illustrations. 6

Nottingham General Hospital, Twenty Years On. 9

What was so special about the Nottingham General Hospital? 12

Nottingham’s Healthcare development was Financially Supported by the Tobacco Industry. 14

Nottingham General Hospital, a Two Hundred and Eleven Years Relationship. 18

A Short History of the Nottingham Children’s Hospital. 23

The Former Mapperley Hospital Chapel, Restorations Forgotten Building. 37

A World War One Memorial, to all those who ended their lives in hospital. 44

The Queen’s Medical Centre, Nottingham’s Medical Metropolis. 47

The Queen’s Medical Centre, The first forty years, looking ahead to 2017. 52

The Cold War, Civil Defence, the UKs Reluctant Volunteers. 57

Appendices 71

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THE NOTTINGHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL TWENTY YEARS ON

‘A personal reflection’

Gone but not forgotten (Rick Wakeman)

Over the past twenty years Nottingham has seen many transformations. We have witnessed the mushrooming of new tower blocks, culminating with the physical alteration of Nottingham’s City Centre with the revamping of the Old Market Square in 2005 and before that on the 9th March 2004, after a gap of 68 years, the reintroduction of Nottingham’s Tram Network. In that same time span, tucked away in a corner adjacent to Nottingham Castle sits Royal Standard Court, the site of the former Nottingham General Hospital. Now approaching its twentieth year since closure, it’s hard to imagine the buildings that remain were once central to public healthcare in Nottingham. It was a hospital that first opened its doors on 28th September 1782 and in its 211 years of existence saw all the technological innovations in healthcare we now take for granted. It was a hospital that was to see two world wars and the ensuing social changes brought about by those two periods of conflict, the most important being the inception of the National Health Service on the 5th July 1948. Apart from its much respected school of nursing, the Nottingham General Hospital also played its part, along with other hospitals in Nottingham in the teaching of medical students from the University of Nottingham’s faculty of medicine which opened in 1970. In preparation for its impeding teaching status, from the mid 1960’s onwards the hospital went through a period of rapid expansion beginning with the building of the nine storeys Trent Wing, which opened in 1972. Unfortunately it was this expansion programme that sealed the General Hospital’s fate, as plans were already in place to build the University of Nottingham’s Medical School together with the now familiar University Hospital.

1782: Nottingham General Hospital

The Trent Wing, opened in 1972

My period of service at the General Hospital began in April 1980 to 1984. By then clinical services, at regular intervals were transferring to the Queen’s Medical Centre. As many of the hospitals wards were now in mothball, my memory of that time was wondering how long this hospital will stay open, as even in those early years rumours were beginning to circulate of the hospitals impeding closure. When anyone mentioned its closure, my reply would always be: ‘How can they close a hospital like this, the General is part of Nottingham’s heritage.’ All rumours of closure did ‘temporarily’ cease after the General in 1982 celebrated its Bicentenary, followed by a successful campaign by staff and members of the public to keep the hospital open. As I worked in the Nottingham Health Authority, Supplies Department, I was often moved to stores located about the Nottingham District and it wasn’t until September 1986 that I had another sustained period of employment at the General Hospital. By then the mood was much more sombre, things had changed, nearly all the original departments, with the exception of radiotherapy had been transferred to the Q.M.C. The hospital by 1986 had entered a transitory period where departments temporarily moved in. Those departments being healthcare of the elderly in transit from former long stay wards at the City Hospital, awaiting their final move to Lings Bar Hospital. In that same period rumours about the hospital’s closure had by then reached fever pitch, rumours which were sometimes exacerbated by the local media. On a number of occasions before going to work in the morning I would switch on the local news to hear someone say: ‘At a meeting last night of the Nottingham Health Authority it was announced that Nottingham’s General Hospital is to close,’ only to arrive at work to a rushed staff circular saying the General isn’t closing. So by the time the announcement of closure in 1988 was announced, it came as some relief to all the remaining staff members, myself included, as we now knew what fate had in store for us. As for me, with closure in mind I bid my final farewell to the General Hospital in 1989 when I went to work at the Nottingham City Hospital, where I remained in employment there until 2008 after 30 years of employment in the National Health Service

Fast forward to nearly twenty years after the closure, as you will see by the companying photographs, the buildings that remain have been tastefully restored but have somehow lost their familiar lived in look. In a way these buildings have become silent sentinels to their once-upon-a-time 24 hours 7 days a week existence. Although familiar from the outside, viewed from the inside their role has changed so much it’s hard to imagine they were once a hospital ward or department. What also gave the hospital its character was its people. When you think, the whole area that was once the General Hospital was very much a public area with easy 24 hour access. Now as I walk the same area, apart from the lack of activity and the accompanying hushed silence, the remaining access areas that were once free and easy to enter are now only accessible to those who live on the

10 wards that have been converted into bedsits, or for those with the appropriate security pass or digilock number. In other words, what was once public has now become private!

What was once public has now become private!

As an example, just after the hospital closed and was waiting for the developers to move in I remember walking up Park Row. As it was winter, apart from the cold eerie silence that hung in the air, I most remember the gates to the hospital being closed, secured with a heavy lock and chain and an accompanying notice in red with the banner heading of: ‘No entry, private property, trespasses will be prosecuted.’

With the long lens of time, knowing how the General Hospital was a much loved institution, my only wish would have been that those responsible for overseeing the General’s closure had taken those affectionate views into consideration, instead of allowing the steady drip, drip, drip of rumours to take hold, which caused so much anguish amongst staff members trying to get at the truth as to what was happening. In conclusion, there will never be another hospital like the Nottingham General Hospital – it was unique. As a resident of one of the apartments that adorn what is now Standard Court said to me: ‘It’s so nice living here, it’s so convenient to get to the shops in town.’ In my reply I said, that’s just what the staff used to say about working here when it was a hospital.’

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What was so special about the Nottingham General Hospital?

To all former members of staff and to members of the public who frequented its many portals; as nearly twenty years have passed since its closure, the question I ask: ‘What was so special about a collection of grade two listed Victorian buildings on the fringes of the Park Estate that was once the Nottingham General Hospital?’ What was it about the place when during its bicentenary celebrations in 1982 the word hospital closure was mentioned did members of staff and public fight a campaign that persuaded those in authority to keep the place open? Also why is there a tendency to reminisce about the old place as representative of some golden age, when it’s many generations of consultants, matrons, and managers were God fearing, and when opinions of those in authority were respected and never challenged?

1959: Nottingham General Hospital

To begin answering this question, although the General Hospital complex looked totally out of place to house modern healthcare facilities, could it be that at heart we are all sentimentalists. In other words, is it that we love old buildings rather in the same way as we love steam engines? Although physical reminders still remain and have been scoured of all the elements, what is it about standing in the same spot where the Trent Wing once stood that can hold those who were its staff members in a trance as memories of the old place come flooding back? Could it be that the General Hospital was special because of its convenience? Were we as its patients, visitors and employees spoilt by its location - right in the heart of Nottingham? Take as an example the convenience of the hospital’s Casualty Department; no inconvenient hike across town to the Q.M.C., just one bus journey, taxi fare or dare I say ambulance ride to the top of Park Row. For its employees too there was the convenience of shopping in town during lunchtime. No need to expend your precious hour walking all the way to the Victoria or Broad Marsh Centre’s, just a short walk down Park Row to the Co-op on Upper Parliament Street or to the shops adorning Chapel Bar and the West End Arcade. It is interesting to note, since the closure of the General Hospital all those small shops and businesses outlets, including the Co-op have all long since gone.

People may accuse me of describing the former Nottingham General Hospital as something utopian, that is not so. A hospital, weather as a member of staff or public is a place where the emotions of happiness and sadness come in equal measures. The General was just like any other hospital, some days were good whilst others not so. What separated the General from all other hospitals, especially its neighbour across the other side of town, the City Hospital, when the General was opened on September 18 1782, it was always a hospital. In other words, it began life as a hospital and remained so until its closure in 1993. Unlike the City Hospital that began life as a Poor Law ‘Institution.’

As regards to its seniority, it could be said the City Hospital is older by 57 years, as it can trace its historical roots to 1725 to a Workhouse on York Street, when in actual fact the City Hospital we know today was opened on March 18 1903. What also separated the General from the City Hospital was that the General was established entirely on private and charitable donations, whereas the City was founded on government legislation. Consequently, many of its presidents were members of the aristocracy; people like Lord Middleton who lived in Wollaton Hall and the Duke of Newcastle who lived in the present day Nottingham Castle, and who, during the hospitals construction, donated an acre of land. Apart from the association of members of the aristocracy, it also attracted local industrialists as well. These were industrialists like Sir Jesse Boot and Sir Thomas Shipstone and of course the Player family. It was the Player family that provided the funding for many extensions to Nottingham’s Hospitals. Giving money not just to the General Hospital but to the former Women’s Hospital on Peel Street and the former Children’s Hospital at Forest House as well. Apart from its charitable status, what also gave the hospital its air of regality was that its consultants were given the jealously guarded title of honorary. The air of regality extended itself to local business directories as well. In an official pre-1939 Nottingham Handbook under the title of ‘Principle Hospitals’ it says:

‘Nottingham General Hospital stands on Standard Hill, and owes its foundations to public munificence towards the close of the eighteenth century. It commenced its work of mercy in 1782, and its buildings have been frequently enlarged since then to cope with increased appeals for its services.’

It goes on to say:

‘The hospital depends largely upon subscriptions, donations and legacies and the income from a small capital investment. In addition to the resident medical staff, a large honorary staff of physicians and consultants attend daily to see out-patents.

This grand narrative of ‘public munificence’ and ‘its work of mercy’, comes in stark contrast to the one sentence devoted to the Nottingham City Hospital, that goes on to say:

‘CITY HOSPITAL – a large well appointed general hospital of 985 beds, formerly the Poor Law Infirmary, but now undertaking every type of medical and surgical work for all classes in the community.’

When contrasting the two very different descriptions, one can now begin to see the esteem the General Hospital had. With charitable donations being its main source of income, before the inception of the N.H.S. in 1948, hospitals similar to the General were referred to as ‘Voluntary Hospitals.’ In essence, voluntary hospitals were the most prestigious; they aimed to provide quality of care to a number of patients. They were generally well managed and had the ability to choose their staff and maintain discipline.

Finally, to encapsulate all that has been written, what made the General so special; firstly it was its pre-1948 voluntary status that gave it its air of superiority, secondly the General Hospital represented an age of deference; an age which was more formal, where rank and status were treated with equal amounts respect. Thirdly, and like our love of old buildings and steam engines, the General Hospital represented a kinder world that revolved a lot slower than it does today.

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NOTTNGHAM’S HEALTHCARE DEVELOPMENT WAS FINANCIALLY SUPPORTED BY THE TOBACCO INDUSTRY!

To organise and stage any major corporate or public event, it is almost certain those organising the event will have approached, a multi-national company to sponsor the event. In a world that relies on big money to hold large public events, sponsorship has become ubiquitous. For example, the organisers of the 2012 London Olympics have already signed sponsorship deals with 55 multi-national corporations. Corporate sponsorship is something we take for granted, just as long as it doesn’t prick the public’s moral conscience, which it did. It came when it was discovered that one of the sponsorship deals signed for the 2012 Olympics was awarded to a chemical firm reputed to be responsible for the production of Agent Orange, a chemical that was used during the Vietnam War. However, mention the words ‘tobacco company sponsorship’ and any grumblings over a chemical firm’s sponsorship deal is eclipsed by the paroxysms of rage coming from hand wringing members of the public. An example of this outpouring of public emotion came in 2001 when the British and American Tobacco Company gave the University of Nottingham £3.8 million to fund an international centre for the study of corporate responsibility. Amidst all the toing and throwing of arguments, there were calls for the money to be returned; the campaign group ASH said: ‘BAT is one of the world's most irresponsible and anti-social companies, and is under investigation by the Department of Trade and Industry over its role in tobacco smuggling.’ In truth, the fallout from tobacco sponsorship comes mainly because we are aware of the harmful effects that tobacco usage can bring. However, turn the clock back to the early part of the 20th century and the story is quite different. Nottingham during the early years of the 20th century was quite unlike it is today. Back then Nottingham’s retail trade was mostly a conglomerate of small independent businesses, and its main centres of mass employment were the cycle, brewing, coal mining, pharmaceutical, hosiery, and tobacco industries. Unlike today, it was these industries, through their owners philanthropic endeavours that bank rolled much of Nottingham’s welfare facilities. Before the days of the National Health Service, hospitals were unlike anything like they are today. They were a miss-match of local authority hospitals, cottage hospitals and voluntary hospitals. In Nottingham, hospitals like the City came under the management of the local authority, whereas the General, Women’s and Children’s Hospitals were all voluntary hospitals. Voluntary hospitals, for their finance and upkeep, relied upon subscriptions, donations and legacies; legacies which invariably came from local aristocratic and business leaders. For example, just before the turn of the 20th century in 1899, Sir John Robinson, the owner of Home Ales, donated £10,000, which is today worth £1,011,500.00. This was followed in 1926 with a further donation of £5,000, today worth £239,000.00. Earlier in 1920 the owner of Boots the Chemist, Sir Jesse Boot made a donation to the tune of £51,850 for the development of the Nottingham General Hospital that in today’s money is worth £2,105,110.00. These are just a few of the many thousands of pounds worth of donations by local business leaders which in today’s money would be worth millions. But the one benefactor that the General, Women’s and Children’s hospitals were to benefit most from were from the brothers William Goodacre and John Dane Player of John Player and Sons.

Children’s Hospital Extension: Opened in 1923, costing £40,000

William Goodacre and John Dane Player were largely responsible for the expansion of services at all of the above three hospitals. Combined, from 1915 to 1943, they donated a total of £166,250.

The ‘Ropewalk Wing’ opened in 1927

These donations brought much needed expansion. To highlight a few, the building of new wards at the Nottingham Children’s Hospital at Forest House, opened 1923 came at a cost of £40,000 to John Dane Player. Later in 1939, he made a donation of £25,000 to extending the facilities at the Women’s Hospital on Peel Street. This was followed in 1927 when William Goodacre Player made a £50,000 donation to the cost of building the Ropewalk Wing at the General Hospital, only to be followed in 1932 with another donation amounting to £25,000 to build the ‘Player Wing’ on the steep west face of the General Hospital site overlooking the Park Estate. In 1943 a second-floor was added to the Player Wing with all costs being met by W. G. Player. Earlier in 1929, at considerable cost to himself another storey was added to the Jubilee Wing.

Player Wing, General Hospital, opened 1932

Jubilee Wing extended in 1929 by W. G. Player

The other two hospital projects the Player family contributed to, was an earlier donation by W. G. Player in 1915 of £1,250 to the modernisation of the X-ray department. This was followed in 1932 with a £25,000 donation from J. D. Player as a contribution to the building of the Pay Bed Wing.

Pay Bed Wing, opened 1933

These are the donations the Player Family made we know of. Although not publicised, during the height of the Second World War in 1943 the Player Family made a donation of £250, which would today amount to £ 9,255 to the upkeep of the Nottingham Children’s Hospital. A combined total of £166,250 today doesn’t seem all that much, but allowing for inflation those combined donations would today amount to a staggering £6,154,575. It is worth bringing to mind, if people then thought the way we think today and refused the many generous donations given by the Player family, because of the industry they were allied to, the history of Nottingham’s hospitals would be a lot different.

Finally, the tobacco industry donating large sums of money to healthcare expansion, today seems an inconceivable thought. However, with the ever increasing commercialisation of the National Health Service in England; with ever imaginative ways to try and generate income, just imagine if Imperial Tobacco decided to make a donation of £6,154,575, the 21st century equivalent to the amount originally donated all those years ago, to the building of a new health centre or hospital building. With a £6 million plus price tag, just think what be purchased with that amount of money. But before all that, what do you think the public’s reaction would be...I will leave you the reader to decide!

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THE NOTTINGHAM GENERAL HOSPITAL

A Two Hundred and Eleven Years Relationship

If an article is to be written about the Park Estate, the article could be one of many subjects. It could be about its grand Victorian buildings, its unique place in Nottingham’s history, or indeed its Victorian street lighting. Although outdated, it is this form of street lighting [gas] which gives the Estate its unique character. However, this article is neither of these three subjects. This article is about the two hundred and eleven years relationship, from 1782 until 1993, the Park Estate had with its former neighbour that was perched on the steep eastern side of the estate, adjacent to the Castle that was the Nottingham General Hospital. Climbing up from Park Valley to the top of the Park Steps, which was once part of an ancient trackway that traversed Nottingham from the west, with the exception of Ropewalk House and a part of the building that is now the Nottingham Clinical Commissioning Group, little remains of the former hospital, and what does remain has been divided up and given new titles. As a former employee of the hospital, who was around when the closure was announced, whenever I visit the site, I find myself thinking: ‘I wonder if those living in the apartments that were once hospital wards, and the residents living in the former nurses residence that was Memorial Nurses Home, know the historical background to where they live and the contribution the buildings and the people who worked in them made, over two centuries, to saving the lives of so many people?’ Today, if you stand where Park Row and The Ropewalk meet and look around, you will see some old familiar buildings, and where buildings once stood that were part of the hospital, new buildings now stand in their place with perhaps the façade of the previous building left to remind us of what was once there.

Out Patients Department, Ropewalk House, originally opened in 1927, now known as Ropewalk House

From where you stand, look towards Ropewalk House, which was once the Out Patients Department for the hospital, and you will see a building that was designed by the Nottingham architect Robert Evans and opened in 1927 by HRH Princess Mary the daughter of King George V and Queen Mary after £65,000 was raised for its construction, and where Mr. W. G. Player of John Player and Sons gave a generous donation of £50,000, which is today worth over £2m.

Another familiar building seen from the same location is that of the former James Foreman and Neil wards that served as accident and emergency wards. Altogether, a three storey building that stretches

18 from Postern Street to the top of Park Row. Originally built in 1877 to a design drawn up by Thomas Chambers Hine the Park Estates principle architect, it was redeveloped in the early 2000’s and renamed Charles House, after King Charles I raised his standard in 1642 on Standard Hill during the English Civil war.

Still in the same location, this time looking into the courtyard, once the scene of so much activity, though not on the scale as witnessed at Nottingham’s Queen’s Medical Centre, is the entrance to the former hospital’s Accident and Emergency Department now the premises of Hart’s Restaurant.

Charles House, originally accident and emergency wards.

From the time of the hospital’s opening in 1782, it had always received casualties. However in 1927, after the Ropewalk Wing was opened, the Out Patients Department was transferred into the new building. Therefore, the Casualty Department was able to become a more fully integrated department with its own dedicated team of nursing and medical staff. After the Accident and Emergency Department transferred to the Queen’s Medical Centre in 1979, the vacated department in the early 1980’s was refurbished and became the hospital’s Occupational Therapy Department, as the hospital by then, until its closure in 1993, dealt with healthcare of the elderly patients and patients recovering from strokes.

Former Casualty Department now premises of Hart’s Restaurant

To try and visualise or to even describe the buildings that were adjacent to where today’s Hart’s Restaurant is, for those with no recollection of what the area looked like when it was a hospital, would prove an impossible task. Suffice as to say, where Hart’s Hotel is once stood Broxtowe House. A house purchased by the hospital in the early 1900’s chiefly for the use as accommodation for medical staff. However, what was once the Hospital Superintendents living quarters and in later years the John Storer Clinic is that which stands next to Hart’s Hotel, Tower House. A Grade Two listed building, Tower House's appearance is attributable to the work of four architects. Peter Frederick Robinson and William Paterson in 1827-33. Thomas Chambers Hine in 1860, adding the porch, oriole and brick bands, and Watson Fothergill, who added timbered attics in the 1880s.

Tower House

As the area surrounding the former hospital buildings has decreased in size, for those with no recollection of what the area looked like when it was a hospital it is hard to imagine what the place looked like. For example, where there are now residences that overlook the Park Estate, once stood medical wards. Known as the Player Wing, in honour of Mr. W. G. Player, who gave a donation of £25,000 for its construction and eventual opening in 1932. Before the days of the National Health Service, it is very much to Nottingham’s tobacco industry that Hospitals like the Nottingham General Hospital, the former Women’s Hospital on Peel Street, and the former Children’s Hospital, Forest House in the Mapperley Park area of Nottingham were able to expand their clinical services. As over a twenty-eight year period, both John Dane Player and William Goodacre Player donated to all three [voluntary] hospitals £166,250.00, which is today worth over £6m. Apart from the physical reminders of the Nottingham General Hospital, which includes another of T. C. Hines masterpieces of 1856, the hospital chapel and a third storey added to the original Georgian building designed by John Simpson in 1782, there is also the former round wards of the Jubilee Wing, a part of the hospital that was opened in 1900.

Today known as the Roundhouse, because of the pub that occupies the ground and first floor of the building, it was designed by the Liverpool architect Alfred K. Waterhouse who was also famed, amongst other architectural gems, for the design of Manchester Town Hall, the Natural History Museum in London and the Prudential Buildings on King and Queen Street in Nottingham.

The Round House Pub

Jubilee Wing (Roundhouse) originally opened in 1900

Originally designed as a five storey building the sixth storey was added on in 1930 at a cost, borne by Mr. W. G. Player of £12,075, today worth £684,525.13. The new sixth storey ward was subsequently named Mable Player Ward in honour of this wife who was also a nursing sister at the hospital. Another architectural gem is the building that faces the grounds of Nottingham Castle, the former Nurses Home, Royal Standard House. Designed by Robert Evans and Sons, and opened by HRH the Prince of Wales on the 1st August 1923 and later extended in 1927, Memorial Nurses Home was a design feature set out in 1919 as part of what became the hospital’s inter-war extension programme and also acted as a physical memorial to all those who gave their lives in the First World War of 1914/18.

Memorial Nurses Home (Royal Standard House)

As the hospital expanded so did the need to search for suitable accommodation, which was to extend itself beyond the confines of the hospital grounds. For example in 1919 No. 5, Newcastle Drive was opened as a nurse’s training school, and as late as 1968, in anticipation of the opening of the Medical School in 1970, Valley House was opened to provide accommodation for a further 63 members of staff.

Altogether, the hospital accommodation extended itself along Regent Street, Oxford Street, and as far as 111, The Ropewalk, and Park Terrace, which was mostly private residences for many of the hospital’s consultants. As a consequence, Park Terrace was referred to by the hospital staff as ‘Nottingham’s Harley Street!’

5, Newcastle Drive

The Nottingham General Hospital, whilst ever there are still physical reminders it will always be fondly remembered, especially by the former members of staff who worked there. Above all, apart from its pre National Health Service days as a Voluntary Hospital, giving it regal status over hospitals like the Nottingham City Hospital, which was a local authority hospital and before that a Poor Law institute, the General will be remembered for its convenience. Its convenience for its A & E Department, which was in the centre of Nottingham, and its convenience for staff during lunch breaks, especially if you had for some reason to go to the shops in Nottingham’s City Centre. Finally, it is this shared feeling of convenience that still lives on with today’s residents. For they, like former members of staff all say the same thing: ‘It’s so convenient living here’…. Therefore, long may the memory of the old place live on!

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A SHORT HISTORY OF THE NOTTINGHAM CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL

The Nottingham Children’s Hospital as we know it today is an amalgamation of two children’s hospitals, one already housed at the Queen’s Medical Centre and the other transferring from the Nottingham City Hospital in June 2008. Both children’s hospitals have individual histories, one beginning in a converted house in 1869 whilst the other beginning 34 years later in 1903 at the opening of the Bagthorpe Workhouse and Infirmary, later renamed the Nottingham City Hospital.

1869: Russell House, Postern Street, Nottingham

1903: The City Hospital as the Bagthorpe Workhouse and Infirmary

But before we can begin delving into the rich tapestry of history that is today’s Nottingham Children’s Hospital, we first of all have to discover how the Children’s Hospital came to be at the Queen’s Medical Centre.

To begin that discovery we have to travel back to a time when the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, housed in a former mansion house, Forest House, a house that once belonged to Sir Thomas Birkin transferred its services to the Queen’s Medical Centre on the 11th November 1978.

Forest House, 1900 The Children’s Hospital we know today is a far cry from what any previous generations of children experienced. Unlike the hi-tech equipment seen in today’s hospital wards, at the turn of the 20th century, without the aid of modern medicines, treatment was then very primitive. For example, if you were struck down with an illness like tuberculosis, the healing process could be slow and sometimes very painful plus there were long bouts of separation from family and friends.

A Viewing Platform

As the above example shows, a viewing platform outside a hospital ward window. Unlike today’s children’s wards, at the beginning of the 20th century visiting hours were very restricted. As the example below from ‘The Nottingham Children’s Hospital Rules for Inpatients’ implies; no visitors were allowed to visit the patients except in cases of extreme illness. If however you were a patient suffering from tuberculosis, to visit you, all your friends and family could do was look at you from the outside.

The treatment of ‘Fresh Air’ for tuberculosis suffers

Even after the discovery of Penicillin in the 1940’s, one of the drugs that brought the disease under control, fresh air was very much still in evidence in the treatment for tuberculosis, as this picture taken of children at the City Hospital in the mid-1950s demonstrates.

Today on children’s wards, especially at the Queen’s Medical Centre, apart from seeing lots of nurses and doctors and the reassuring faces of family and friends, there are also lots of toys and games to play with. When the Children’s Hospital was first opened, hospitals were austere places that lacked comforts so familiar on today’s hospital wards. As the picture below taken in 1895 of one of the wards at the Children’s Hospital first home of Russell House, Postern Street, Nottingham shows - where are all the toys and games to play with, and where are all my family and friends?

Children’s Ward, Russell House, Postern Street, Nottingham.

Not only were children’s wards forbidding looking places they were also places lacking in space too. As the photograph taken in 1900 at the Nottingham Children’s Hospitals second home, Forest House shows.

Duchess of Portland Ward, 1900

In contrast to the cramped conditions of Forest House, first built as a Workhouse and Infirmary, the children’s wards at the City Hospital were more spacious, as the photograph below from 1925 illustrates.

Children’s Ward 1925, Nottingham City Hospital

In answer to the cramped conditions, the facilities at Forest House were finally extended. This was made possible by Mr. John Dane Player of John Player and Sons who paid for the whole building project after giving a donation of £40,000, which today would be worth £1,921,600.00. Appropriately named the Player Wing it was officially opened on 30th April 1927 by H.R.H. Princess Mary.

The Player Wing opened 30th April 1927

The Official Opening ceremony led by Princess Mary and John Dane Player.

Following the opening of the Player Wing, this led to a number of departmental expansions throughout the hospital, leading to an extension of the outpatient department, and x-ray department, ultraviolet ray and electrical massage departments. However, the building extension, apart from allowing the hospital to expand and grow also had designed into it an abundance of square shaped drainpipes with a child’s head embossed into the ironwork, as you will see from the photograph below.

Unlike hospitals today, which are funded by taxation, before the inception of the National Health Service in 1948, hospital funding came from many different sources. For example, hospitals like the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Forest House, were funded and patronised not just by members of the aristocracy and captains of local industries, but also members of the public as well. To achieve this, members of the public were encouraged by the hospitals management to subscribe to monthly donations or to leave legacies in their wills, which in honour would allow them a lasting memorial of their legacy by having a brass memorial plate erected over a child’s bed. These hospitals were referred to as ‘Voluntary Hospitals.’ Although all hospitals throughout the U.K. during World War Two came under government control, hospitals like the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Forest House, still made repeated requests for monetary donations. However, saddled with the privations of war, this was later extended to include requests for food and clothing, as the two examples from the Annual Report for 1943 show.

Imagine asking a child of today to eat game, which could be anything from pheasant, wood pigeon or duck, or asking a child to eat a rabbit, which may possibly, if available, extent itself to a hare. Or could you imagine the Children’s Hospital, Queen’s Medical Centre, sending out requests for new and old linen and cotton sheets. In today’s day and age it would never happen, but that’s how hospitals like the Children’s Hospital, Forest House, were able to keep and maintain themselves during the World War Two and even for a few years after before the inception of the National Health Service in 1948.

Above is of course just a brief example of how voluntary hospitals were able to keep and maintain themselves. However, for hospitals like the City Hospital, funding came from the local authority as it was a hospital that had grown out of the Poor Law, a law that had been in existence since 1601. Although the Poor Law was revised in 1834, the Poor Law did not formally end until the birth of the Welfare State in 1948 and the inception of the National Health Service. With the inception of the National Health Service, for hospitals like the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Forest House, this heralded the dawning of expansion, coming as it did with improvements being made to the X-Ray Department, theatres and wards, especially the X-Ray Department and the operating theatres with the introduction of equipment and anaesthetic equipment specially designed for children.

Operating Theatre 1927, Nottingham Children's Hospital

Operating Theatre, August 1978, Nottingham Children’s Hospital

Unlike the Children’s Hospital at Forest House, although much smaller, the Children’s Unit at the City Hospital had already moved to a new purpose built building in 1930. Coming as it did with four new wards and an operating theatre, bringing the City Hospitals capacity to perform surgery from one to two operating theatres. Up until 1930 paediatric surgery had to be performed in one primitive looking operating theatre that has since, to this day, been found other uses.

City Hospital's First Operating Theatre, 1925

Apart from clinical expansion and improvements in the treatment of illnesses, life for children in hospital still has to carry on, which includes schooling. All children’s hospitals have school teachers to help continue with a child’s education. But let’s not forget there are other services as well, all of which are allied to medicine. To name just a few, these are Physiotherapy, Dietetics, Occupational Therapy and even a Play Leader. Of course, to brighten any child’s stay in hospital, it is quite common for special visits to be made by local and national children’s entertainers.

On special occasion’s celebrities often pay visits to children’s wards, which as the above example shows is a visit to the Children’s Hospital, Forest House in 1977 of one of the Wombles, in this case Great Uncle Bulgaria and a very young Bonnie Langford, dressed as one of the characters of the ‘Just William’ television series from the early 1970’s.

With innovative strides being made in healthcare, it was decided in 1965 that Nottingham should now become one of the main players in those innovative strides. After fighting off stiff competition from other cities, it was decided that Nottingham should have the honour to house a new Medical School attached to the University of Nottingham. Of course having a medical school would have serious implications for the Children’s Hospital as indeed it would have for many other hospitals in Nottingham as well, as it was decided the new medical school would have attached to it a new purpose built hospital. However, from the decision being made in 1965 for there to be a new medical school, it would be a further six years before construction work would get underway.

As it was intended for the medical school to be welcoming its first students in 1970, for teaching purposes, this meant many of Nottingham’s Hospitals had to be ungraded, the Children’s Hospital, Forest House being one of them. The upgrades, although welcomed, in a way sealed the fate for the hospital, which by then had become affectionately known, especially by those who worked there, as ‘Little Ormond Street,’ a reference to the amount of medical staff who had at one time trained or practiced at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London.

1969: Before construction, the site of where the Queen’s Medical Centre is today

May 1972: The Queen’s Medical Centre during construction

So it was, after a grand reunion for all members and former members of staff on Saturday 8th September 1978, and just over a year after it’s the official opening, the countdown began for the transfer of the Nottingham Children’s Hospital to the Queen’s Medical Centre on 11th November, 1978. With the impending transfer date drawing ever closer, there were those who felt a tinge of sadness as the old place was closing. However, for those with an eye to the future, children’s services at the University Hospital, Queen’s Medical Centre, offered the chance for more staff and better facilities. It was also envisaged that at the Queen’s Medical Centre, children would be able to receive treatment for such illnesses as diabetes, leukaemia, respiratory problems and neurosurgical conditions in their own hospital rather than having to travel to specialist hospitals elsewhere in the country. It was also hoped that as well as developing new specialist services, it was also envisaged the University

Hospital would be able to provide temporary relief for the parents of handicapped children by offering care to a section of the child population which until 1978 had been sadly neglected.

The Children’s Hospital that transferred to the Queen’s Medical Centre on the 11th November 1978 came with a proud heritage. However, as an occupational hazard of progress the title ‘hospital’ was dropped from conversation, as the Children’s Hospital became a ‘Children’s Unit’ - just part of one of the many departments at the Queen’s Medical Centre. However, after much planning and preparation, the Nottingham Children’s Hospital title was revived with the transfer in June 2008 of children’s wards from the Nottingham City Hospital.

Now in the 21st Century, it’s hard to imagine just how much progress has been made in paediatric medicine. In a way, the Nottingham Children’s Hospital, Queen’s Medical Centre has it all under one roof, which until recently seemed impossible. For example, under one roof it has a brand new Haemodialysis Unit, a state-of-the-art High Dependency Unit, and located on B. Floor in the South Block a newly refurbished Children’s Outpatients Clinic, which includes a separate area for teenagers. To mention these departments is to mention but a few, the list seems endless. Finally, as with all things, it is easy to take what we see for granted, and at a time like this it is worth remembering how the children’s services in Nottingham began.

From the humble beginnings of charity and the poor law, over the years grew a hospital service that has become second to none, and is one hospital service the citizens of Nottingham can be justly proud of - ‘The Nottingham Children’s Hospital.’

The Queen’s Medical Centre

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THE FORMER MAPPERLEY HOSPITAL CHAPEL

“Restorations Forgotten Building”

As a local historian with a keen interest in Nottingham’s hospitals and also a former employee of the National Health Service with over thirty years of experience, it is fair to say I have seen many changes, none more so than the closure of old hospital buildings. However it is what happens to those buildings, after the owners have vacated and sold them that interest’s me. As an example, after the closure of the Nottingham Children’s Hospital at Forest House and its subsequent move to the Queen’s Medical Centre in November 1978, the vacant wards and departments were converted into offices for the Nottingham Health Authority, and later in the mid 1990’s after the complex was sold it became a boarding school. Following the closure in the early 1980’s of the Women’s Hospital on Peel Street its vacant wards and departments were converted into student accommodation for the nearby Nottingham Trent University. The same can be said for the former Nottingham General Hospital. After its closure in 1993, apart from extensive demolition of many of its buildings, apart from those that were retained as offices, almost all became luxury apartments, with the former accident and emergency department reopening as a restaurant. The mixture of office and private accommodation is the same also at the former Mapperley Hospital. After its closure in 1994 the whole complex was divided into two. The one half that was retained by Nottinghamshire Healthcare N.H.S. Trust was subsequently renamed Duncan Macmillan House, whilst the other half was sold to a private developer who converted the former wards into apartments.

Unlike the former General Hospital site, which was extensively redesigned, practically all the buildings, throughout the whole 30 acre site were retained.

Former General Hospital A&E, now a restaurant

Former Mapperley Hospital, now Duncan Macmillan House

As you can see by the above illustrations, both the former General and Mapperley Hospitals have been beautifully restored. As both complexes are Grade Two Listed, from the outside they look the same as they always have. However, it’s not until you step inside do you notice just how much things have changed.

Former hospital wards now converted into apartments

The above photograph of the former hospital wards, after redevelopment was renamed Nightingale House as part of a whole complex of houses coming under the title of City Heights.

As the above illustration shows, hospital wards now converted into apartments, with commanding views over south Nottinghamshire - a point not missed whenever one of these apartments comes up for sale. However, as the photograph below illustrates, face a different direction and what you see is the point where restoration ended and neglect began.

The Chapel and Theatre at the former Mapperley Hospital Grade Two Listed 8 January 2003 English Heritage Building ID: 489931

The question I ask is quite simply this – why? Why should a building that has the same Grade Two listed status as the other buildings throughout the complex have been allowed to be left to stand and simply rot by succumbing to the elements of weather together with disease carrying feral pigeons.

Is it that churches, or in this case a former hospital chapel, when trying to sell them on the property market won’t make enough money? Or are its current owners clueless as to what to do with it?

An example of neglect

The organ, once a feature of the chapel, now in a dilapidated state and only fit for a builder’s skip. It is hard to imagine how this organ once filled with sound the expanse that was once the hospital chapel. As a former member of staff in an email to me wrote: “I, on a number of occasions played that organ, what a beautiful sound it gave out…Now look at it - what a shame!

Further proof of neglect, as the above photograph illustrates. Apart from damp patches on the floor, which indicates a leaking roof, the floor is not just covered in pigeon droppings but dead pigeons as well. As an example of finding some other use, the photograph below is of the T.C. Hine designed chapel of 1857 at the former Nottingham General Hospital now converted into an open plan office.

The fixtures and fittings may have been removed and is now a far cry from what the chapel used to look like, but at least it has been put into good use. So why allow the chapel at the former Mapperley Hospital to fall into disrepair when all the adjoining buildings have been restored and have been found other uses. As a historian, I am fully aware that not all old buildings can be restored. Financially, it wouldn’t be viable. But what I would welcome is the opportunity to sit round a table and discuss ideas as to what is to become of this one part of the whole one time Mapperley Hospital complex. This I would do with not just its current owners but with adjoining residents of the complex as well. In a conclusion to this article, you could say there are more questions than answers. But if further proof was needed for its urgent need of restoration is to say that the complex was designed by George Thomas Hine, the son of Thomas Chambers Hine. An architect who went on to become nationally acclaimed by designing hospitals in towns and cities throughout the UK, and in his designs display a unique hallmark, a hallmark which is moulded into the brickwork, and is a feature on buildings designed by both father and son and can still be seen today, the Star of David.

Therefore, before it is too late, let us do something constructive to restore this building to its former glory. Let’s thrash out ideas before it is too late and it falls even more into disrepair and becomes prey to further environmental hazards and consequently becomes even more expensive to repair.

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A WORLD WAR ONE MEMORIAL: To those who ended their lives in Hospital

“An article written in 2014 in memorial to the centenary of the outbreak of World War One”

This year will see the beginning of four years that will mark the centenary of World War One. As part of all the pomp and circumstance of what will mark those four years, homage will, of course, be paid to those who fell in battle; of all those who obeyed orders and bravely crossed over no man’s land, only to fall in the face of enemy machine gun fire. The thought of all the historical events that took place a hundred years ago, leads us on to think of all the war memorials dotted around the northern fields of France and Belgium that mark out areas where battle took place and where huge losses of life were sustained. In particular, we think of the Belgium town of Ypres and the Menin Gate; a memorial designed by Sir Reginald Blomfield that bears the names of 54,896 Commonwealth soldiers, where every evening at 8 o’clock, whatever the weather, the road thorough the memorial is closed whilst buglers from the local fire brigade sound the Last Post.

The Menin Gate, Ypres, Belgium

Here in the UK, when we think of remembrance our thoughts turn to the pomp and pageantry that is the annual Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance. A festival held in November that commemorates not just those who fell in World War One but in World War Two as well, including those who sacrificed their lives in wars and conflicts in more recent times. Who cannot fail to be moved when, for those in the audience and those watching on television, are entertained by the spectacle of highly polished service personnel parading at the Royal Albert Hall in front of HM the Queen and members of the Royal Family. Then on the Sunday morning to the more solemn setting of the Cenotaph in London’s Whitehall as HM the Queen once again leads the nation in remembrance.

The evening sounding of the Last Post from the Menin Gate, the spectacle of the Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance, and the solemnity of the service from the Cenotaph, together with all the services of remembrance that take place throughout the Commonwealth is, for those who have never experienced combat, hard to comprehend, which is reinforced by the fact that World War Two ended nearly 70 years ago, and the generation who fought in that war, as the years go by, are becoming fewer in number. As I have already pointed out, our thoughts of those who gave their lives are mostly of those who fell in combat, but what of those who were wounded in battle, and were lucky enough to make it back to a hospital in the UK, only to die later of their injuries - how do we remember them?

Of all those killed outright in combat, it can be said, at least theirs was a clean death. In other words, they felt no pain. Unlike those who were to die in hospital, weeks or months later, or maybe even years later! Apart from morphine, access to advanced pain relieving drugs was very much in its infancy and therefore still unavailable. One can only imagine the pain and suffering those who survived combat went through, lying day after day, having to cope with not just the physical scarring but the mental scarring as well.

So how do we remember those who died away from the battle field? It could be said their death was not a soldier’s death, a fatal wound sustained in the field of battle, but a death surrounded by all the creature comforts of a ‘Home Hospital,’ maybe even surrounded by close family and friends. Even so, their death was another sacrifice; another sacrifice to the flower of youth, as they became part of the lost generation. Therefore their death was just as noble as those who fell on the field of battle and should always be remembered as such.

Like all towns and cities, Nottingham has spread throughout, war memorials of varying shapes and sizes, some of which are tall and stand in the middle of a market place or outside a civic centre. To mention a few locations, there are even war memorials to be found in banks, sports clubs, and churches, there is even one to be found in the entrance to Nottingham’s Railway Station. These are war memorials, which none the less are just as important, but in a way, because of their size, pay homage to the common man. However, it is Nottingham’s principal war memorial, the Memorial Gardens, on the Victoria Embankment that is the scene of Nottingham’s Civic Festival of Remembrance. Every year on a date close to November 11th, along with representatives of Nottingham’s Reserve Forces, Nottingham’s civic dignitaries come together with members of the various local branches of the Royal British Legion to pay homage to Nottingham’s fallen. But what about those who died in hospital as a result of their injuries? Like the Armed Forces Memorial at the National Memorial Arboretum, a memorial that pays homage to service personnel who, since World War II, have died whilst on duty, Nottingham has a memorial that pays homage to 332 service personnel who died in Nottingham’s Hospitals during World War 1. That place can be found in Soldiers Corner in Nottingham’s General Cemetery. Of that memorial, more than 100 of those graves form a war plot, with the names of the dead inscribed on the adjoining Screen Wall.

World War One Memorial, Nottingham’s General Cemetery.

Of all the war memorials there are in the City of Nottingham, this is probably one of the most fascinating. Located where it is, this memorial is placed alongside others to those who fell while fighting in early 19th century colonial wars. For example, there are memorials to soldiers who died in

45 the Crimean War, in particular those who took part in the infamous Charge of the Light Brigade, and there is also a grave to those who died during the Indian Mutiny of 1867. On closer inspection of the screen wall, not only does it give the names of those who died, but also their rank, their number and regiment, and for some, their age as well.

Of all the stories told about World War One, age has always been of interest, especially when hearing stories of how boys lied about their age saying they were older than they actually were when trying to join up. On the war memorial there are two examples of ‘never being too young to die in a war.’ They belong to two seventeen year olds, No. 156436 Boy Arthur Harry Andrews, Royal Air Force who died on 23rd October 1918, just nineteen days before the signing of the armistice on 11th November 1918, and No. 7357 Private Francis (Frank) Saunders, Royal Irish Regiment, who died on 19th October 1918.

Too young to vote, too young to drink in a pub, but never too young to die in battle!

Of all the ages displayed on the screen wall the highest death rates are recorded in the 20 to 29 age bracket with a total of forty. However, the oldest recorded death is that of 64, which belongs to No.4152 Private William Conduit who served with the 161st Protection Company, Royal Defence Corps, a unit designed to be filled by men who wished to serve during the war, but were too old for frontline duty, or by men whose health was no longer good enough for them to be in the fighting line but were useful enough to guard headquarters, dumps and depots, barracks and bridges.

As the memorial is for those who died in care and, as time has gone on, for those who did the caring, as the Honorary Archivist to the Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust, it was my wish that on the Remembrance Sunday, which was on the 9th November 2014 that I lay a wreath at the War Memorial on behalf of Nottingham’s Hospitals. It was also my wish that as many of its employees as possible would join me to pay their respects as well.

As a footnote to this article, it has been decided it should become a tradition that a wreath of poppies be laid at subsequence Remembrance Sunday services. Also, after the successful Service of Remembrance held on the 9th November, 2014, it has been decided in 2018 another service will held at Nottingham’s General Cemetery to mark the centenary of the ending of World War One….Paul R. Swift

Photographs of the service can be seen in the appendices

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‘THE QUEENS MEDICAL CENTRE’ Nottingham’s Medical Metropolis

Having been part of Nottingham for the best part 34 years, the University Hospital, Queens Medical Centre is now accepted as one of the finest teaching hospitals in the world. The hospital was originally opened on Thursday 28th July 1977 by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II when along with Prince Philip; she paid a visit to Nottingham as part of her Silver Jubilee celebrations. However, for those who were around at the time and have memories of the event will know what has now become Nottingham’s Medical Metropolis, had, for those who lived in the area, a controversial beginning. Having the honour to be the first medical school to be established outside the capital, in the 20th century, and fighting off bids from rival cities, the University Hospital was conceived in July 1964, when a decision was announced in Parliament that Nottingham, the city chosen, was to have a new University Hospital and Medical School. As it was estimated a site of 42 acres would be required, the initial problem the planners had to face before building work could commence, were issues surrounding the legalities of compulsory purchasing of land and buildings, together with the displacement of people to other areas of Nottingham, as where the University Hospital was built was once an industrial/housing estate. Opposition to the compulsory purchase of land and buildings came in February 1967 when local residents fought the decision to build the access road to the hospital from Derby Road, by launching a petition and car sticker campaign. This culminated one month later when two hundred residents from Wollaton formed a ‘vigilante group’ to oppose the large-scale development about to take place.

1969: The site of what is now the campus to the Queen’s Medical Centre

No more was the force of collective resistance more keenly felt than by the vice-chairman of the Nottingham Planning Committee, who, apart from sympathising with local residents, was quoted as saying: “I often feel that we the council have the dirty end of the stick. We are told what the plans are by the Ministry and we have no alternative but to enforce them.” Eventually, after overcoming all the legal technicalities, building of the University Hospital finally got underway in May 1971.

1972: The Construction of the Queen’s Medical Centre

If everything had gone to plan the whole hospital would have been completed in 1980. Unfortunately, with all the best will in the world, plans never go quite the way they are intended, as it would be a further four years before the building work was finally finished, with the completion of the hospitals South Block. The Queens Medical Centre because of its sheer size has, from its outset, courted controversy. For example, what took the Q.M.C. so long to become fully operational was due to the fact that during the early part of the 1980’s it had to overcome N.H.S. funding shortages. Indeed, before that, it was reported in the Evening Post on July 7th 1979 that the then North Nottingham M.P. William Whitlock, in a debate in the House of Commons told M.P’s: “the University Hospital was too big.” This was followed three years later in July 1982, when in an Evening Post interview the Rushcliffe M.P. Kenneth Clarke mischievously described the University Hospital as a “monument of folly.” However, in a later article published in the same year, and to refute the comments made by Mr Clarke, the Q.M.C. was described in a survey as: “one of the top ten most productive hospitals in the country.”

With the long lens of time and by reading the above comments made, one can begin to see why when it was built it courted so much controversy. The University Hospitals sole purpose when it was first planed is that all trauma and acute services should be centralized under one roof. This meant transferring all services from smaller hospitals in Nottingham. Eventually, over time, to familiar cries from staff and patients alike of, “it’s too big” and “it’s too impersonal,” all services were transferred from old much loved hospitals to this new purpose built building on the western side of the city. The idea of centralization of services also gives a clue as to what architects and planners were thinking at the time. The 1960’s was a time when Nottingham, like many other towns and cities throughout the U.K., went through a period of slum clearance, when whole districts like St. Ann’s and the Meadows were cleared of all 19th century slum housing. Apart from building new houses, what appeared to be the answer to overcoming the shortage of housing, as they could be constructed quite quickly, plus they would occupy less building space, and that was to build high-rise flats? Therefore, with high-rise living being the answer, why not build hospitals in a similar way.

48 reported in the Evening Post on July 7th 1979 that the then North Nottingham M.P. William Whitlock, in a debate in the House of Commons told M.P’s: “the University Hospital was too big.” This was followed three years later in July 1982, when in an Evening Post interview the Rushcliffe M.P. Kenneth Clarke mischievously described the University Hospital as a “monument of folly.” However, in a later article published in the same year, and to refute the comments made by Mr Clarke, the Q.M.C. was described in a survey as: “one of the top ten most productive hospitals in the country.”

1970’s: Still under construction, the first aerial photograph of the Queen’s Medical Centre

The cost of building the University Hospital has been wide and varied. In the mid-1960s during its planning stage, it was estimated that it would cost £15m build, which today would cost an eye watering £223m. Later in 1979, to build the University Hospital it was quoted as £70m, the equivalent price of two Concorde aircrafts. Again, at today’s prices, it would cost a staggering £296m. Of course, the controversy over the cost didn’t end with the price of two Concorde’s. In the same article published in April 1982 it was estimated that to bring it up to its estimated bed capacity of 1,400 beds a further £6m would have to be spent. If that was not enough to cope with, this was followed up seven months later on 10 November in an article highlighting settlement cracks appearing in the building, caused by structural movement, thus requiring a further spend of £1.5m in remedial work. In the same article that appeared in 1982, the price to build the Q.M.C. had in three years jumped a further £10m to £80m, which in today’s price would cost a whopping £225m. To average all the three original prices quoted to build the University Hospital, the final cost would have come to an average of £55m. Today £55m would be enough, at a rounded cost, to purchase the current Nottingham University Hospitals NHS Trust, covering both the City and

University Hospitals, the just opened £3m Biomedical Research Unit and the £21m Nottingham Radiotherapy Centre at the City Hospital, leaving a surplus of £13m. One question that has been asked over the years is: “would hospitals like the Q.M.C. ever be built again? The answer would be yes, but at an enormous cost, which in this day and age would prove just as controversial as when the Q.M.C. was first built all those years ago. Indeed, a hospital in similar size to the Q.M.C. was planned to be built in Stockton-On-Tees, only to be cancelled by the current coalition government as the cost was estimated to be £464m.

1977: West Block Main Entrance

2009: West Block Main Entrance

Having survived politically charged comments and the tectonic plates of earth movement, the Nottingham University Hospital, Queens Medical Centre is today very much an accepted part of Nottingham’s healthcare services. When thinking of the demands placed on today’s National Health Service, then think of how the old hospitals the Q.M.C. replaced, in today’s day and age. Although we loved the old hospitals and

50 cherish fond memories, hospitals such as the Women’s Hospital on Peel Street, the Children’s Hospital at Forest House and of course the Nottingham General Hospital would not be able to cope with the demands that would be placed on them. Therefore, hospitals like the Q.M.C. and its attached medical school had to happen, without it the world renowned centre for medical excellence that Nottingham is would never have taken place. Another thought to bear in mind, if the plans to build the Q.M.C. had been conceived ten years later in 1974 rather than 1964, with the same time span of seven years before building work could commence taking it to 1981, maybe the whole project would have been watered down or at worst cancelled, as it would have been deemed too expensive by the government at the time. So with the benefit of hindsight, those who drew up the plans to build the Q.M.C., unbeknown to them saved Nottingham from many of the changes that have taken place in the N.H.S. I say this, because if a hospital the size of the Q.M.C. were to be planned in today’s day and age, as already been shown, the whole project would have been cancelled because it would be deemed too expensive. Finally, as I have shown, the Q.M.C. had to happen. Indeed, from its original plan of 1,400 beds the hospital has since been expanded. So the question I ask: ‘Will the Q.M.C. continue to grow?’ The construction of new buildings on the Q.M.C. campus may have now reached saturation point, but it will continue to grow as it adapts to, and indeed develops, new methods in health care provision fit for a health service of the 21st century.

2010: Aerial Photograph, Queen’s Medical Centre

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QUEEN’S MEDICAL CENTRE The first forty years, looking ahead to 2017

In what was cheekily referred to in July 1982 in a Nottingham Evening Post article by the Rushcliffe M.P. Kenneth Clarke as a ‘monument of folly;’ it’s hard to imagine, what began way back in 1965 as a report led by Sir George Pickering, to its eventual opening in 1977 by HM the Queen, the Queen’s Medical Centre in 2017 will celebrating its 40th anniversary. Therefore, as we look ahead to 2017 it is worth pausing and thinking, what gives the University Hospital, Queen’s Medical Centre its unique character. Designed and constructed as a purpose built hospital building, the Q.M.C. brought together, under one roof many of Nottingham’s well established healthcare institutions, beginning with the General Hospital on Park Row and the Children’s Hospital, Forest House on the fringes of Nottingham’s Mapperley Park Estate. Indeed it was these two hospitals that were the first to move in when the Q.M.C. first opened. For example, the General Hospital began a phased move to the Q.M.C., which lasted almost until the Generals eventual closure in 1993. The same could be said for the Children’s Hospital, as it was from Forest House the Children’s Hospital’s services were transferred to the Q.M.C’s F. Floor in the West Block, then referred to as ‘Phase One,’ in the winter of 1978. As the Q.M.C. was opened in phases, so other hospitals were transferred. For example, the Nottingham and Midland Eye Infirmary, originally from The Ropewalk in Nottingham, the Eye Infirmary began a phased move to the Q.M.C. in 1978. This was a move that was to last for four years when the whole of the ophthalmic department eventually came together in 1982. Also, during that same period, in November 1981 the Women’s Hospital on Peel Street was transferred to the Q.M.C’s East Block, which became known as ‘Phase Two.’ Not forgetting other departments that have transferred as well. Beginning in the mid-1980’s and lasting until the mid-1990’s, the Q.M.C. saw the phased transfer of psychiatric services to the South Block, known as ‘Phase Three,’ from two of Nottingham’s former psychiatric hospitals, Mapperley and Saxondale. The Q.M.C. also saw the expansion of its neurological services after the department was transferred from the former Derby Royal Infirmary. Finally in 1988, the Q.M.C saw an expansion of its department of orthopaedic surgery after the closure of Harlow Wood Hospital. Apart from centralising healthcare, one of the intentions of the Q.M.C. was to bring together medical and nurse training. Although, in recent years, this has been expanded with the opening in 1999 of the Clinical Sciences building at the Nottingham City Hospital, it is these various amalgamated hospitals and departments that have given the Q.M.C. its own unique character.

As already indicated, the Q.M.C. was designed and constructed specifically as a purpose built hospital building, which has consequently made it very much a hybrid hospital. In other words, it is a hospital that has accommodated other hospitals, which on amalgamation brought with it its own unique piece of history. Therefore, overtime, this uniqueness has established itself at the Q.M.C. which, in turn, has given the hospital its own unique hybrid characteristic. As an example of this unique hybridity, on entering B. Floor from the main entrance on Derby Road, amongst the various waiting areas, displayed on the walls are plaques of varying sizes. Apart from being given a clue as to how hospitals were financed before the inception of the National Health Service, it is recognition of the Q.M.C’s. historical past with the former Nottingham General Hospital. Indeed, as you enter B. Floor through the glass fronted entrance, you are met by an art deco stained glass window, a work commissioned to mark the Q.M.C.’s 21st birthday in September 1999,

52 in which the top panel depicts a pair of safe caring hands, whilst the bottom panel contains the Q.M.C. logo with each of its predecessor hospitals, which exemplifies over 200 years of healthcare service, previously provided by those hospitals, now provided at the Q.M.C.

The former hospitals that go to make up the Q.M.C., the General, the Women’s, the Eye Infirmary, the Children’s and Harlow Wood Hospitals.

As an example of the Q.M.C’s. hybrid characteristic, and as recognition of the hospitals that were amalgamated, embossed in the Q.M.C. logo are the names of the hospitals that go to make up the establishment of the Q.M.C. From an historical point of view, the hospitals that go to make up the Q.M.C. all, at some time, began life at, or within the vicinity of, the former Nottingham General Hospital. Then looking at it from a contemporary view point, of the hospitals that go to make up the Q.M.C., it is interesting how they were all brought back together under the same roof, just as they were under one roof when they were first established at the General.

Thinking collectively of the hospitals the Q.M.C. replaced. Nottingham has a rich tapestry of fine architecturally designed buildings, which includes hospital buildings as well. As most of these buildings date back to the Victoria era and have become part of the fabric of Nottingham, in many ways we have grown to love and cherish these old buildings, in much the same way as we love and cherish old steam engines. Somewhere within our collective psyche, we see old buildings, especially a hospital building, as something safe, reliable and dependable, and something that last will last for generations to come. Unfortunately these buildings cannot last forever. In other words, they cannot halt the continuous march of progress. In spite of a modernisation program to Nottingham’s Hospitals, beginning in the 1960’s, whilst waiting for the Q.M.C.to be built, and in preparation for the opening in 1970 of the Medical School, it was inevitable, in the face of the advance of modern medicine, these much loved hospital buildings came to look increasingly out-of-date. However, construction work following the Pickering Report of 1965 did not begin until 1971. This is because not only did a suitable site have to be found, but there was the inevitable consultation process with those who were to be affected once the site to construct a building the size of the Q.M.C. had been chosen. Of course, as with all civil engineering projects of the Q.M.C’s. magnitude, it had its detractors. This came during the consultation period in 1967 when two hundred residents from Wollaton formed a ‘vigilante group’ to oppose the large-scale development about to take place.

1969: Q.M.C. site before construction began in 1971

1973: Construction of the West Block

Yet in spite of its 40 years of existence, the Q.M.C. as a building is still relatively new; it is when compared to its neighbour the Nottingham City Hospital, a hospital that began life as a Poor Law Workhouse and Infirmary in 1903 and will this year be 110 years old. Although there are those who will continue to say: “the Queen’s is too big,” without the Q.M.C., Nottingham as a world renowned centre for medical research would be a backwater. Without the Q.M.C. the effects would have been adverse on Nottingham’s popularity as a university town, affecting not just the continuing growth of the University of Nottingham, to which the Q.M.C. and the Medical School are linked, but the development of the Nottingham Trent University as well, which, according to Education UK, together educate about 56,000 students, regularly.

Having recognised the Q.M.C’s historical past, as we look ahead to the hospitals 40th anniversary, the question I ask is this: ‘Will the Q.M.C. continue to grow?’ The construction of new buildings on the campus may have now reached saturation point, although plans are afoot for a new multi-storey car park, which will come complete with a helipad, I feel it will continue to grow as a teaching and caring environment, as it adapts to the many challenges that lay ahead, and indeed develops new methods in health care provision, fit for a health service of the 21st century. Finally, and as an example of the continuing growth of the Q.M.C. and Nottingham as a university town, in August 2015, the Queen’s Medical Centre and the University of Nottingham had its own express transport link, as it became connected to Nottingham’s Express Transit (the tram network), thus linking it with other parts of Nottingham and its neighbour from the other side town, Nottingham Trent University.

With the Medical School in the background, a tram is seen crossing the Ningbo Friendship Bridge.

Artist’s impression of the proposed multi-storey car park and helipad

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1950s: THE COLD WAR Civil Defence – The UK’s Reluctant Volunteers

Synopsis

Civil Defence, after the ending of World War II in Europe was disbanded. However, following the 1948 Berlin crisis, civil defence was re-constituted in the year following the Civil Defence Act of the same year. Believing civil defence would be based on the successful World War II model, that concentrated on saving lives and ensuring that Britain's economy would operate after an attack, the new post-war Labour Government under Prime Minister Clement Attlee set about the task of urging members of the public, through mass media recruiting campaigns, to volunteer their services for civil defence. This was a campaign that was to last throughout the following decade, which brought differing results according to which cold war crisis the country was going through at the time.

According to Matthew Grant, the whole of the 1945 to 1950’s recruiting campaign was considered a failure due to an understanding of patriotic citizenship rooted in the cultural context of the Second World War. Indeed it was the use of images from WWII that encouraged me to begin my research. The images published by the Ministry of Information were of colourful eye catching posters of people all doing ‘their patriotic bit’ for their country, whilst urging you, the reader, to do the same. It was this image that authorities used again in civil defence recruiting campaigns as the main driving force in the years after 1948, but, as we shall see, with differing results. Apart from briefly discussing the use of the atomic bomb in 1945 against Japan, and the public’s response, I go on to discuss the scientific advances of nuclear weapons capability and its consequences should a weapon of such mass destruction be used against a country the size of the UK. Aware of the UK’s war weariness, I go on to discuss the actual recruiting of volunteers, which is re-enforced by a collage of recruiting posters. Although they convey the same message as those used in WWII, the atmosphere given off is more sombre, as authorities were asking people to prepare for a war that may or may not happen! With war weariness still in mind I move the discussion on to the reasons given as to why there was a lack of interest in civil defence volunteering. In discussing this issue, I use secondary source and primary source information from the archives of the Nottingham University Hospitals NHS Trust. The use of primary source information is further used as I discuss one of the aims of the civil defence organisation, the National Hospital Service Reserve (NHSR). In times of war, the service of the NHSR would be to supplement the expanded hospital services and work alongside National Health Service staff. Apart from providing a backup service, the NHSR were also taught the capabilities of nuclear weapons and how to respond to casualties in its aftermath. It was this knowledge coupled its destructive capabilities, I feel, had a detrimental effect on attracting volunteers to join. Chiming in with the previously discussed lack of response, the excuses given as to why there was a lack of interest, especially as those being asked were NHS employees from the Nottingham City Hospital, were similar to those given in the previous discussion.

The knowledge and capabilities of nuclear weapons were the two main reasons as to why there was great difficulty in recruiting volunteers into the civil defence organisation. Coupled with this, Britain after WWII was a different country, although emerging victorious was financially bankrupt and was reliant on the Americans. So much so, that before Britain’s post-war reconstruction could begin, a heavily conditional loan had to be brokered with the US. Another major change to the UK was her standing on the world’s stage. From 1945 onwards, Britain began the process of decolonisation, beginning as it did in 1947 with the independence of the Indian sub-continent. This was followed in 1948 when birth was given to the UK’s multi-cultural society, when the cruise ship SS Empire Windrush docked at Tilbury Docks with the first generation of immigrants from the Commonwealth countries, coming, as they did, in search of employment and improved living conditions.

It was all these changes that made the thought of fighting an unwinnable war, coupled with the phrase ‘having had enough in the last war’ made people turn their backs on fighting another war.

To bring the topic up-to-date, I have included in my research a footnote. This I have done to demonstrate the point of how the knowledge of nuclear weapons has advanced, and to conclude that although the Cold War is over, whilst some are still in the development stage, rouge states now have nuclear capabilities, and as a consequence the world is less stable now than at any time during the the Cold War. Finally, and in an ironic twist, the campaign group, Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), in spite of dire warnings from its campaigners, only had the support of a third of the population during the height of the Cold War as people eventually maintained that whilst we and the enemy have a nuclear deterrent, neither side would use it.

Introduction

The post-war Berlin crisis heralded the onset of the Cold War, which led to the Civil Defence Act of 1948 and the establishment of a new civil defence organisation running along similar lines of the successful wartime model (Woolven, R. www.mcis.soton.ac.uk) that concentrated on saving lives and ensuring that Britain's economy would continue to operate after a nuclear attack (Grant, M. 2010: 5). Expecting eligible UK citizens to answer the call, every year from 1950 to 1963, bar the election year of 1959, ordinary Britons were confronted with a vast array of advertising encouraging them to volunteer for training to fight a nuclear war in one of the civil defence services. Newspaper advertisements, ministerial broadcasts and public speeches, cinema shorts, television and radio items and local measures such as door-to-door approaches, leafleting, and the staging of pageants and demonstrations at fetes and county fairs all showed the public what civil defence was, what it could do, and how important it all was (Grant, M. 2010: 4). Before 1954 and the development of the thermonuclear weapon and before its true destructive powers could be fully understood, it was still a widely held belief that a war fought with atomic weapons of the sort used on Japan in 1945, though more powerful and destructive by the 1950s, would still be prosecuted along recognisable lines. Armies would clash in Northern Europe, and industrial production would continue, as atomic bombs could not destroy everything, especially when used in limited numbers (Grant, M. 2010: 1). . Preparing for war and war itself

As a historian born fourteen years after the ending of World War II, I have always had a curious fascination for the many colourful leaflets and advertising posters produced by the Ministry of Information extolling the virtues of service to the country in times of war.

The one theme you will observe running through the above collage of World War II posters are all of happy smiling people all doing ‘their bit’ for their country, which also includes that of the Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Set against a backdrop of tanks and aeroplanes, with the quoted caption of: “Let us go forward together,” which is equalled on the top right-hand side of the collage with a thumb’s up sign from the pilot, with the simple message of ‘Let’s Go!’

Amongst the thumbs up sign and the illustrations of men and women marching and pulling together, along with the slapstick cartoon drawing of Hitler, I am somewhat reminded of the wartime song: Put your thumbs up! And say “It’s tickety-boo!” with the following lyric: “cause tickety-boo means everything will be fine.” In an example of ‘tickety-booness,’ as you can see in the photograph below, its high summer and everyone is in high spirits to match. Faces wreathed in smiles as nursing staff and other hospital workers all pull together to fill sandbags whilst at the same time prepare for the building of one of the hospitals many air raid shelters.

Put your thumbs up! And say “It’s tickety-boo!”

In an another example of wartime jingoism, the photograph below, set against a backdrop of sandbags, shows the resident medical staff posing in uniformed white coats wearing steel helmets and stethoscopes whilst carrying, around their necks, bags that contain the all-important, but never used, gas mask.

Tickety-boo means everything will be fine.” Of the wartime messages conveyed from the above three illustrations, let us not forget for those on the home front living under the constant threat of danger, especially if you were living in a target area, life wasn’t all that tickey-boo. For example, as a result of enemy action 60,595 UK citizens died (29,890 of them in the London Region) and 86,182 were seriously injured, and it is believed without ARP (Air Raid Precautions) services, many more casualties would have been sustained (Woolven, R. www.mcis.soton.ac.uk).

WWII ARP services at work

The ARP services were successful because of the evacuation of priority groups such as children who might have perished in the blitzed cities. As an example, civil defence workers from ARP wardens to fire fighters and ambulance drivers rescued countless people at great personal risk. But above all the provision of shelters, both communal and – on a massive scale – domestic saved lives and provided those living in targeted areas with valuable piece of mind (Grant, M. 2010: pp.5,6). Another aspect of policy, central to the Second World War, was the dispersal of industry and the due functioning of essential services and utilities: of vital importance if industrial production were to be maintained under attack (Grant, M. 2010: pp.5,6).

The actions and prosecutions of the WWII civil defence organisation were just what authorities thought would take place should the UK come under attack again in a more violent and scientifically, unclear nuclear war. Soon after the ending of WWII in May 1945 the civil defence organisation was disbanded. However, following the Berlin crisis, which lasted for 11 months, from June 27, 1948 to May 12, 1949, heralding the beginning of the Cold War, the UK’s civil defence organisation, was re- established in 1949 following the Civil Defence Act of 1948. In spite of Conservative Party criticisms on certain details of the Bill and the abstention from the House of Commons two Communist MPs, the act had all-party parliamentary support.

As a consequence, the resulting Civil Defence Act benefited greatly from recent wartime experience and again established nationally organised locally run Civil Defence Corps. Although the services were to rely on recruiting large numbers of locally based part-time volunteers, the Act came into force in 1949 when the extensive regulations were published detailing the operation and responsibility of the various services (Woolven, R. www.mcis.soton.ac.uk).

Why the atomic bomb was used

Although a terrible weapon to use, after an ignored ultimatum of the 27 July 1945 by Japan to America, and with the terrible prospect of land invasion, apart from making it the world’s first nuclear superpower, the American’s used the atomic bomb to put an immediate end to WWII, which finally ended on 10 August. In spite of the widely held belief that the bomb saved allied and Japanese lives; combined, the two bombs that were dropped, 128,000 lives were lost due to the massive concussion and explosions caused by the bombs and 120,000 lives were lost due to radiation sickness (www.wikianswers.com).

Reaction to the Atomic Bomb

Before the re-establishment of civil defence can be discussed, it is important to gauge the public's reaction following the use of the atomic bomb. The response by the public also gives some indication as to the tardy response by the public following the government's decision to re-establish civil defence in the UK.

The day after the dropping of the atomic bomb, the social research organisation Mass-Observation set about collecting the public's views on the momentous event. First reactions were mixed, the triumphalism of some mingling with an apparently more widespread feeling of foreboding. One man felt immediate fears for the future: "I think it's awful. It gives me qualms when I think about it. Supposing they use it against us. Supposing Germany will learn the secret – and other countries. They will, you know" (Grant, M. 2010, 11). Fear and uncertainty characterised the early reactions to the bomb, in the press as well as on the street. On Tuesday 7th of August, as the news broke in the London press The Times’ diplomatic correspondent wrote that the bombs ‘wider and more fearful possibilities are as yet undisclosed. The atomic bomb, more surely than the rocket, carries the warning that another world war would mean the destruction of all regulated life’ (Grant, M. 2010, 11). But for many, the atomic bomb inspired a very real moral revulsion. One Mass-Observer wrote in September that ‘such hideous destruction seems to knock the moral bottom out of life…. Ideals, hopes and principles seem to fade to nothingness.’ Another wrote that she was ‘too horrified to want to speak about it and yet it is seldom out of my mind. It casts gloom over everything and its terrifying possibilities make nothing worthwhile doing’ (Grant, M. 2010, 12). For Clement Attlee, Prime Minister for less than a fortnight, the impact of the atomic bomb was profound. Throughout that August he grappled with the meaning of atomic energy, telling the House of Commons on 16 August 1945 in his first speech to the new post-war Parliament, ‘we have seen a new force, the result of scientific discovery, the far reaching consequences of which, we find it difficult to grasp (Grant, M. 2010, 16,17).

The Knowledge and Consequences of Nuclear Weapons and its Usage Comes of Age

In the spring of early 1953 a group of civil servants led by the respected Treasury official Robert Hall sat down to think about what Britain would look like after an atomic war. When Hall received the intelligence assessment on the likely nature of a Soviet attack on Britain, it was estimated by the Joint Intelligence Committee that there would have been 132 atomic bombs delivered on industrial and population targets and 40 on air bases, leaving a cool 28 bombs in reserve.(Grant, M. 2010, 2). In London, they said, 422,000 would be killed, 241,000 seriously injured. In Birmingham the numbers

61 were 127,000 and 72,000, in Manchester, 98,000 and 57,000, and in the Clyde area, a similar number as well (www.guardian.co.uk). At the same time as more and more information became available to the public, especially after the testing of the thermonuclear hydrogen bomb, the mass peace movement (CND) successfully convinced people that countries like Britain could not survive a thermonuclear attack (Grant, M. 2010, 10). The likelihood of Britain being able to survive an attack by a thermonuclear weapon is again backed up by Hall and his colleagues as they peered into the abyss, seeking to understand what life could possibly be like after a nuclear attack, and even to ask, after the hydrogen bomb, whether Britain would still exist as an organised community. It was understood that a single atomic bomb on a British city would probably kill around 50,000 people. It was estimated in 1960 that an all-out attack with hydrogen bombs would kill 8 million people instantly with between 13 and 27 million others dying slowly and painfully from radiation sickness, with virtually no chance of medical relief. For the planners involved, aware that what was left of Britain would need to strain every sinew in order to allow a semblance of organised life to continue after an attack, psychological well-being would be an issue to confront after law and order were established. They feared society collapsing in on itself, a shattering of the rule of law, and survivors slowly starving. For those involved with civil defence, envisaging nuclear war meant facing up to the prospect of the country being ripped apart and British power being destroyed in what might well be on simultaneous attack (Grant, M. 2010: pp 2, 3) Indeed, as more knowledge became available local councils like Coventry City resolved that: ‘in view of reports of the devastating effects of the H-bomb, it is a waste of public time and money to carry on with the Civil Defence Committee – we are taking steps to terminate its existence... to strengthen the hands of international statesmen to ban the bomb’ (Woolven, R. www.mcis.soton.ac.uk).

The Civil Defence Corps Recruitment

From the beginning of the post-war period it had been a central tenet of civil defence planning that a voluntary civilian service would be resurrected. Initial plans were evolved in 1947 for a tripartite service involving civilian static units (essentially the ARP services of the last war), civilian mobile services and lastly military mobile groups. The first ‘experimental’ mobile column was only founded in January 1953, and that was staffed by national serviceman rather than civilian volunteers as intended. For civilians, voluntary service was restricted to ‘static’ service in the Civil Defence Corps. Those volunteering could join either the Civil Defence Corps, Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS), the National Hospital Service Reserve or the Special Constabulary. To join the Corps, women had to be aged over 18 whereas men had to be over 40, reflecting the fact that those younger were liable to be called up for military service in the event of war (Grant, M. 2010, 65). Public awareness of the cold war threat was obviously a key aspect of civil defence. Yet, the formal messages used to encourage recruitment only rarely discussed the threat to British security in explicit terms and never identified the Soviet Union as the potential enemy (Grant, M. 2011, 60). Recruiting, when it did begin, was initially very reliant on veterans of the civil defence services from the last war. When initial recruitment proved distinctively underwhelming – just 21,477 had joined up to the end of January 1950 – the finger was apparently pointed at the associations for exaggerating the keenness of (there by now obviously largely paper) membership. Of these recruits, 80 per cent had served in civil defence during the war and only 26 per cent were women and that many of the civil defence veterans who re-joined the colours were much closer to 60 than 40 (Grant, M. 2010, 65). In an attempt to attract new ‘younger’ volunteers, and in answer to the negative responses that had been encountered, that civil defence was unnecessary, and that it was no use, it was suggested that enrolment in the Civil Defence Corps should be regarded as a duty by able-bodied citizens over the military age and that time should not be lost in fulfilling that duty (Grant, M. 2010, 66).

Where are all the smiling faces?

Unlike the jingoistic posters and leaflets of World War II, the literature produced for the cold war showed a marked difference in tone and tenor. For example, the information retained the central themes of patriotism and individual duty, however, this time, the government attempted to convince individuals of the need for immediate patriotic action by including civil defence within the wider framework of British defence. This was done in two ways: recalling the last war and linking civil defence with Britain’s other defence preparations. In referring back to the war, propaganda was building on the assumption widely held before recruiting began that civil defence veterans would flock to the colours (Grant, M. 2011, 63). As the above example shows, civil defence propaganda drew heavily on the war years to stress the comradeship and fulfilment people would gain from service in civil defence (Grant, M. 2011, 63). As patriotism was the initial gambit used by the government to attract volunteers, in the end, it only a limited success, with membership reaching just 31,809 members on 30 June 1950 (Grant, M. 2010, 67). The main reason for the lack of response has been put down to a marked desire not to present civil defence as a ‘panic measure or as a prelude to all-out war (Grant, M. 2001, 61). However, by the summer of 1952 after two and a half years of recruiting the volunteer membership of the Civil Defence Corps had attracted a membership of 201,349 volunteers. This was followed by a two-year recruiting campaign that between 1951-52 added a further 50,000 new members, which was still around 300,000 people short of the peace time target (Grant, M. 2010, 69 & 71). In all, during the early 1950’s, 500,000 people joined the Civil Defence Corps. However, the civil defence propaganda successive government’s used was perceived as a failure. This was due to an understanding of patriotic citizenship rooted in the cultural context of the Second World War, which, in a period of cultural change, the propaganda successive government’s used to attract volunteers began to emphasize leisure as well as duty, but struggled to reconcile the two messages in a way that was capable of convincing people to join in large enough numbers (http://tcbh.oxfordjournals.org).

Possible reasons for the lack of public response

One of the many reasons given as to why there was a lack of public enthusiasm to volunteer for civil defence duties was the dilemma the UK Government had over just how much the public could and should be told of the effects of nuclear weapons. Although the public needed to know the reason why civil defence measures were necessary, it was equally important that they should not be frightened that they might decide there was no point in preparing to survive a nuclear attack (Woolven, R. www.mcis.soton.ac.uk). The other dilemma the Government had was asking war weary members of

63 the public to prepare for a war that may or may not happen, and if it did, would be far more horrendous than the previous six years just experienced. The idea of war weariness can also be reinforced in a Parliamentary debate on the subject of civil defence in July 1950 when the MP Mr Geoffrey Lloyd said: ‘I think the greatest difficulty is the general revulsion from the whole idea of war. Everybody feels it. I suppose that it is felt as much by members of the Government and by Members of this House as it is by the ordinary members of the public; and that does constitute a pretty considerable difficulty. All but the very youngest children have experienced one war, and a large number of other people have experienced two wars; and it is not as if this country has had a very easy time since the war, what with austerity, and so on’ (hansard.millbanksystems.com). Another reason for the lack of enthusiasm or perhaps one of the many excuses given for not wanting to join the Civil Defence Corps, was a lack of spare time, ‘having no interest,’ and to reinforce the point of war weariness, ‘having had enough in the last war’ (Grant, M. 2010, 67). A similar point is raised in correspondence from the Hospital Secretary of the Nottingham City Hospital to the Nottingham No.2 Hospital Management Committee, dated as late as the 26 November, 1958. In his letter he said: ‘As you will be aware the Nottingham No.2 Hospital Management Committee are called upon to form a Civil Defence Unit at this Hospital.’ He then goes on to say: ‘When an appeal had been made for volunteers in the past, one heard remarks as, ‘what is the good’ and ‘what could I do?’ Such replies also suggest a process of cultural change in which the emphasis on duty, self- sacrifice, and delayed gratification was receding in favour of leisure opportunity, consumer choice, and the gratification of jam today rather than tomorrow. In this sense, the feedback process on civil defence chimed with the ‘set the people free’ rhetoric of the new Conservative Government – which itself has been seen as a beneficiary of growing levels of discontent with ‘austerity’, especially among the middle classes (Grant, M. 2011, 65). Another indicator as to the lack of public response to volunteer for civil defence duties was that Britain, by the 1950’s, was a country that was rapidly changing. Juxtaposed against the 500,000 figure of people volunteering to join the Civil Defence Corps, Britain, by the early 1950’s, saw the ending of wartime rationing, workers’ wages were beginning to increase, and agricultural production grew by 160 per cent between 1945 and 1957. Also, Britain’s share of the world export market returned to pre-war levels (nearly 25 per cent of world exports), mass consumption took off as middle class Britons bought new cars and consumer goods, industrial output and gross domestic product grew and inflation and unemployment remained low. This led the Conservative Prime Minister Harold Macmillan, in 1957, to make his famous declaration that the British had ‘never had it so good’ (McCormick, J. 2003, 20).

Civil Defence – National Hospital Service Reserve

The Civil Defence Act, as already indicated, benefitted greatly from recent wartime experience, establishing nationally organised but locally run Civil Defence Corps. The Corps had Headquarters, rescue and warden sections, while the Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS) and a National Hospital Service Reserve were formed to support the peacetime fire and hospital services (Woolven, R. www.mcis.soton.ac.uk).

As part of the rethink of civil defence policies, all hospitals throughout the UK were asked to establish their own civil defence organisations. The need for a NHSR, as already pointed out, arose from the developments of the Cold War after 1945. The basic role of the NHSR would be, in time of war, to supplement the expanded hospital services and work alongside National Health Service staff. The NHSR was a civil defence organisation set up under the 1948 Civil Defence Act (UK) and established in 1949. They were staffed by uniformed volunteers from the nursing and medical professions, of whom most would have been either registered or auxiliary nurses. Many volunteers received training in first aid and auxiliary nursing that would open up new career opportunities for them. Branches of the NHSR were established throughout the UK with County Councils and County Borough Councils being responsible for their administration (www.flickr.com/photos).

The establishment of civil defence on the size of the Nottingham City Hospital required it to be a minimum of 156 personnel, whereas peace time requirements only required 52. Their duties ranged from telephone operators, messengers, wardens and rescue squads. Once signed up, volunteers undertook basic training one evening a week before progressing to sectional training (Grant, M. 2010, 65). However, in hospitals such as the Nottingham City Hospital, staff were released during their normal working hours to undertake civil defence training. The training involved basic instructions in how to deal with atomic warfare, chemical warfare, fire-fighting, high explosive missiles, biological warfare, together with a casualty service and the protective measures to be taken with regard to radioactivity, and the general effects of atomic high explosive missiles. Generally, recruitment to the NHSR was by application through a local hospital, St. John’s Ambulance brigade or the British Red Cross Society. However, in a memorandum from the Group Secretary of the Nottingham No.2 Hospital Management Committee to the head of finance, dated 1st February, 1954, which reiterates the governments rethink of civil defence measures, it goes on to say: "As you are aware, Parliament is very concerned about the lack of effective measures, which have so far been taken in hospitals, and I have been asked to appeal to members of the staff to join in the ‘regrettably’ necessary training"(emphasis added). In a reply to the memorandum of the 1st February, dated 3rd March, 1954, which underlines people's lack of interest in civil defence training, it is quoted as saying: "Only two persons have proffered to attend lectures and in these two instances there is a limitation that the course should include basic training only." Again the same lack of response is shown three years later in a memorandum dated 28th November 1957, where the Regional Hospital Board Civil Defence Officer, Lt-Col. Matheson was to give a lecture on the subject of "nuclear fall-out" on the 11th December 1957 in the Sherwood Main Hall of the Nottingham City Hospital, in which it was asked, again, by the Group Secretary of the Nottingham No.2. Hospital Management Committee to the head of finance asking for as many members of your staff as possible to attend the lecture. In his reply just 11 days later on the 9th December, it is quoted as saying: "there will be no one from the Finance Department at the lecture on Wednesday 11th December.

In answer to the lack of the interest shown in volunteering for civil defence duties, under the heading: ‘Protection of Hospital Premises in case of War,’ a memorandum was sent out to all members of the hospital staff asking them to volunteer their service to the hospitals civil defence corps, in which it says:

"The Hospital Management Committee has been given by the Government, the work of protecting Hospital premises in case of war. This is an important duty, as the Hospital will be required to play an essential part in Civil Defence. The Hospital Secretary has been appointed as Hospital Civil Defence Officer, but he will not serve any useful purpose unless there are teams to assist him. We should therefore, as hospital staff, set about the organisation of these teams and I'm hoping that you will volunteer to be a member."

The memorandum then goes on to say:

"There will be some training, but you will not be required to undertake this, except in hospital time. Any other training will be the subject of your own choice."

The memorandum is concluded by the following:

"If you have any difficulty in volunteering, perhaps you will be good enough to let me know what these difficulties are."

In spite of the lack of interest in civil defence duties, the Nottingham No.2 Hospital Management Committee’s Annual Report for 1956, gave an upbeat assessment of the activities of civil defence, which said: "The National Health Service Reserve in the Nottingham Local Committee Area has been

65 gradually increasing its strength and now consists of 22 trained nurses and 538 auxiliary members.” The report then goes on to say the NHSR has established the National Hospital Service Reserve Association, an association designed to draw together, socially, other members of the National Health Service Reserve. The report was concluded by saying a successful social gathering was held by members of the NHSR at the Nottingham General Hospital."

Mid 1950’s: Nottingham City Hospital NHSR Rescue Team

Stripped of all its World War II jingoistic hype, the above group photograph of the Nottingham City Hospital NHSR Rescue Team in some ways resembles the earlier World War II photograph of the resident medical staff. Like the photograph taken in 1939, those in the later photograph are also wearing helmets, this time in flash resistant white. Unlike the 1939 photograph that shows the medical staff wearing stethoscopes, whilst carrying their gas mask, those in the above photograph have slung round their shoulders two bags one carrying First-Aid equipment and the other their gas mask. In spite of all the smiling faces, the above photograph gives you some indication as to the poor response in answer to the call for civil defence volunteers from members at staff at the Nottingham City Hospital, when out of an establishment of 560 volunteers, only fourteen were from the Nottingham City Hospital.

Conclusion

To understand the difficulties UK authorities had encouraging those eligible to volunteer their services to the Civil Defence Corps from the late 1940’s and during the 1950’s is to understand the social changes taking place following the ending of World War II. After World War II Britain emerged from a war, although victorious, a country that was financially broke. For most of the Second World War, Britain was supported by the US through the Lend-Lease programme. The Lend-Lease programme delivered billions of dollars of military equipment, goods and food in return for leases on British Military bases around the world. Without it our war effort would have been crippled. As it was, by the end of the war in 1945, we were exhausted and bankrupt. Two world wars in thirty years – a total of ten years’ fighting – had broken us.

However, on August 17 1945, the Americans announced, suddenly and unexpectedly, their intention to end Lend-Lease with retrospective effect from VJ-Day, two days previously (www.timesonline.co.uk). As Britain was reliant on America for financial support, the new UK socialist Labour Government under premiership of Clement Attlee had to negotiate a loan, a lone which took a total of 59 years to pay off. In all the loan was worth $US 3.75bn (US$56 billion in 2013) with Canada contributing another US$1.19bn (US$15 billion in 2013), both at the rate of 2% annual interest. With the interest instead of paying the original loan amount the United Kingdom ended up paying a total of $7.5bn (£3.8bn) to the US and US$2bn (£1bn) to Canada (http://en.wikipedia.org). The loan was made subject to conditions, the most damaging of which was the convertibility of sterling. Though not the intention, the effect of convertibility was to worsen Britain’s post-war economic problems. International sterling balances became convertible one year after the loan was ratified, on 15 July 1947. Within a month, nations with sterling balances had drawn almost a billion dollars from British dollar reserves, forcing the British government to suspend convertibility and to begin immediate drastic cuts in domestic and overseas expenditure. The rapid loss of dollar reserves also highlighted the weakness of sterling, which was duly devalued in 1949 from $4.02 to $2.80 (http://en.wikipedia.org). Perhaps one of the most seismic shifts in the UK, a shift which effected its ranking on the worlds stage; from the immediate post-war years onwards a the policy, which was begun by the post- war Labour Government and was continued under the three consecutive 1950’s Conservative Governments, exemplified by the 1950’s general election rallying call of: ‘Set the People Free’, that of decolonisation. Before the war, Britain had been able to maintain and justify the military commitment that was a necessary part of the maintenance of its empire. However, after 1945 Britain found the economic costs of empire increasingly difficult to bear (McCormick, J. 2003, pp. 19, 20), so facing on-going pressure from the newly formed United Nations, so began the process of decolonisation. The first and biggest step was taken in 1947 when India became independent. The following year the British mandate over Palestine – which had begun in 1918 – ended with the creation of Israel, and the early 1950’s saw the beginning of negotiations that would lead to the independence of most of Britain’s remaining African and Asian colonies; the breakthrough for Africa came in 1957 with the independence of the Gold Coast, now Ghana (McCormick, J. 2003, 20). The immediate post-war years also saw the birth of today’s multi-cultural society, when in 1948 the liner 'SS Empire Windrush' docked at Tilbury carrying nearly 500 Caribbean immigrants to Britain, many attracted by offers of work. This arrival represented the beginning of significant immigration to Britain from the Commonwealth, particularly the Caribbean, and later the Indian subcontinent (www.bbc.co.uk/history). Another significant event took place in the same year as people were coming to Britain from other parts of the Commonwealth and that was the inception in July 5th 1948 of the National Health Service. Established by the post-war Labour government, this represented a fundamental change in the provision of medical services. The General Practitioner (GP) services became organised on the basis of a 'capitation fee' paid by the government on every patient registered with a doctor, and all voluntary and municipal hospitals were integrated under state control (www.bbc.co.uk/history)

Described above are just some of the significant events that not only shaped Britain’s immediate post- war years. Even though Britain was still a society of deference, it can be argued that it was the democratising events of World War II that sowed the seeds for change, as soldiers and civilians of all classes shared its dangers and privations. However, the most significant event that changed society, this time on the domestic front, which went on to create the modern day teenager, was the arrival in 1955 of rock 'n' roll with Bill Haley's Rock Around The Clock, to be followed by Elvis Presley entering the British Top 20 charts for the first time in 1956. Naturally, this caused a lot of anxiety for parents as they struggled to cope with rebellious streak that was becoming more evident in Britain's 'trainee adults', as the American Paediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock argued (www.dailymail.co.uk/news). With the long shadow of World War II still casting its spell, the country was asked, after the Berlin crisis of 1948, to once again prepare for war, a war that may or may not happen.

It is a sobering thought, if the country had gone to war, it would have been a war fought, not in the conventional sense, but with a weapon so powerful it could have had apocalyptic consequences for mankind. Believing WWII’s tried and tested methods of ‘Call to Duty’ and ‘Patriotism’ would work again, the government set about the challenge, of trying to encourage people to volunteer joining a re- constituted Civil Defence Corps. The government were, of course, aware that they were asking a war weary nation to once again prepare for war. Unlike, as previously shown, WWII posters and literature extolling the virtues of service to the nation, this time the government used ambiguous slogans to get the message of service across, such as: ‘Of course I’m patriotic. I’d join at once, but…but what?’ This was followed with a laconic reply of: ‘Patriotism is not enough, unless you back it up with words’. The government also believed that greater awareness of the civil defence services and of the effects of the atomic bomb would encourage participation (Grant, M. 2010: pp 66, 67). As already shown, recruitment into the civil defence services reached a peak of 500,000 but was considered a failure, as Matthew Grant has argued (52: 2011), ‘because of a lack of understanding of patriotic citizenship rooted in the cultural context of the Second World War, and that in a period of cultural change, propaganda began to emphasize leisure as well as duty, but struggled to reconcile the two messages in a way capable of convincing potential recruits in large enough numbers to join.’ As an example, as the civil defence services was entirely run on a voluntary basis, the only payment members received was the reimbursement of travel expenses, which, in a way, is why propaganda emphasized leisure as well as duty.

Having discussed the cultural changes to Britain in the post-war period, and how people concerned themselves more on the domestic front, the thought of volunteering to defend a country in an altogether more apocalyptic war, it is little wonder then that civil defence recruiters regularly heard excuses from members of the public of: ‘having no interest’ and ‘having had enough in the last war,’ which can equally be justified by the excuses of ‘what is the good’ and ‘what could I do?’ that were given to management, by those eligible who worked at the Nottingham City Hospital. Another reason for not wanting to volunteer was the knowledge of the effects of the damage an atomic and later, after 1954 the thermonuclear or hydrogen bomb could do… What is the point of living following a nuclear attack? In a way these answers are all simple, yet are still apparent in today’s post-modern world. In deed it was Charles de Gaulle in May 31, 1960 who said: “After nuclear war, the two sides would have neither powers, nor laws, nor cities, nor cultures, nor cradles, nor tombs”. A similar ‘joint’ statement concerning nuclear conflict was made in November 21, 1985 by President Ronald Reagan and First Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev who both agreed: “A nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought.”

In the public’s quest for knowledge, as previously shown, the campaign group Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) played its part in successfully convincing people that countries like Britain could not survive a thermonuclear attack. CND was formally launched on the 17 February 1958 at the Central Hall, Westminster, which by the end of 1958 had nearly 300 affiliated groups (DeGroot, G. J. 2004, 231), was originally intended to be a high-level pressure group, rather like the Federation of Atomic Scientists (DeGroot, G. J. 2004, 230). Contrary to the intentions of the group, ordinary people soon looked to CND to give focus to their fears about nuclear weapons (DeGroot, G. J. 2004, 230), linking their destructive powers with an end- of-the-world scenario in which the writer and historian, A.J.P. Taylor, one of its co-founders, argued successfully that war would certainly ‘destroy the civilised world’ (Grant, M. 2010, 131). Indeed it was CND and other critics of the government’s deterrent policy that successfully undermined the already shaky idea of nuclear survival. Also, CND propaganda was effective and powerful, in as much as, the limited resources given the Civil Defence Corps meant that it would convince few people that survival was likely. It is ironic that CND never commanded the support of so much as a third of the population, and although many non-CND supporters considered civil defence in general laughable, they

68 maintained faith in the nuclear deterrent (Grant, M. 2010, 197). As Robert Jervis (1988, 2) argues: “nuclear weapons have drastically altered statecraft; nuclear weapons have both decreased the chance of world war and increased the destruction that would result were such a war to occur. Thus it is not a contradiction for public opinion to affirm simultaneously that nuclear war would be annihilation and that nuclear weapons have served the cause of peace.”

In the final analysis, the lack of response to calls for voluntary service in the Civil Defence Corps in the immediate post-war years, can be argued that people had had enough during the last war and wanted to move on; Britain in the 1950’s, after the prolonged wartime austerity years had finally ended, was enjoying a period of boom with secure employment, rising income and living standards to match, and as a consequence saw the beginning of Britain becoming a multi-cultural society, as waves of immigrants from the Commonwealth countries came to the UK in search of work and improved living standards, also people were enjoying better healthcare provision provided by the newly created National Health Service. As a consequence of this melting pot of change, coupled with the knowledge of the destructive powers of nuclear weapons, it is no wonder people had little desire to volunteer for civil defence duties.

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Footnote

Mid-1950’s: NHSR Civil Defence Exercise

As I look at the above photograph, I cannot help having a little chuckle to myself. Considering the exercise being carried out is supposedly in the aftermath of a nuclear attack, apart from the looks of concentration on the faces of the nursing staff and the doctor reading and commenting on patients notes, I am instantly drawn to the role playing casualty sitting up whilst recovering on a stretcher; in all probability, drinking a cup of tea after being, supposedly, rescued from a bombed out building that is now radioactive. As this was an exercise from the mid-1950’s, look closely at the picture if it wasn’t for the flash resistant white helmets the nursing staff are wearing, you could be forgiven for thinking it was a World War II exercise. You could also be forgiven for thinking, were those taking part in the exercise in total ignorance of the aftermath of a nuclear strike, as the scene shows little evidence of any urgency. That is not to say those taking part in the exercise where not taking it seriously – of course they were, it just looks more like a dress rehearsal for a village fete recruiting demonstration for the National Hospital Service Reserve.

Of course, compared to the photograph above, we, in the second decade of the 21st century know more about the apocalyptic effects of a nuclear war as compared to those in the photograph above. I have argued in one paragraph of why and how nuclear weapons shape world politics, and why as a consequence we keep and maintain them. Finally, it is important to remember, the Cold war may be over, but first came the United States, then the USSR, then Britain and France. Though four nuclear powers were more unstable than two, the all-important bi-polarity in the distribution of weapons meant that deterrence was quite easy to calculate. But the few non-aligned nations – China, South Africa, Israel, and India – joined the club and things got a bit confusing. In 1989, Pakistan revealed that it had carried out five nuclear tests. A short government statement announced that ‘these test has become imperative keeping in view Indian nuclear tests and threats to Pakistan's security’. North Korea now has nuclear weapons, Iraq has shown nuclear aspirations, especially before the 2003 war. At various times, Libya, Iran, South Korea, Argentina, Brazil and Taiwan have also indicated a desire to develop nuclear weapons. When the mathematics of a world in which atomic weapons were once possessed by two mutually antagonistic power blocs has been replaced by a much more chaotic distribution. The burning question is whether deterrence will continue to work as the list of nuclear nations grows. If some nuclear powers do not possess enough weapons to destroy an adversary completely can MAD still apply? In other words, is a small arsenal more dangerous than a large one? And does the abiding truth of the Cold War, namely that leaders’ will act rationally when faced with nuclear destruction, apply in the case of some terrorist group like Al Qaeda (DeGroot, G. J. 2004: 345).

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Bibliography

1. Anglo-American loan: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anglo-American_loan [Accessed 7th April, 2013] 2. A vanished Britain http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1224231/A-vanished-Britain-50- years-ago-country-doors-left-unlocked-children-played-street.html [Accessed 7th April, 2013] 3. Britain:1945 to Present: http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/timeline/present_timeline_noflash.shtml [Accessed 7th April, 2013] 4. Degroot, G. J. (2004) The Bomb: A Life, Random House, London 5. McCormick, J. (2003) Contemporary Britain, Palgrave Macmillan, Hampshire 6. Grant, M. (2010) After The Bomb: Civil Defence and Nuclear War, Palgrave Macmillan, Hampshire 7. Grant, M. (2011) ‘Civil Defence Gives Meaning to Your Leisure:’ Citizenship, Participation, and Cultural Change in Cold War Recruitment Propaganda: Twentieth Century British History, Vol. 22, No.1, 2011, pp 52-78Jervis, R. (1989) The Meaning of the Nuclear Revolution: Statecraft and the Prospect of Armageddon

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Appendices

Photographs taken during the Remembrance Sunday Service, 2014 at the World War One Memorial, General Cemetery, Nottingham.

3748 Corporal E. Snowden, Nott’s and Derby Regiment (Robin Hood Rifles) 19th November, 1916, Age 18.

The wreaths that lay beneath the names of those who gave their lives for their country.

L/R: Rev. Canon Julian Hemstock, Senior Chaplain, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust and Paul R. Swift, Honorary Archivist, Nottingham University Hospitals N.H.S. Trust