Words by William B. Black
The clock in the lum was a Maryhill legend in its time as well as being a central feature of the original burgh buildings.
When Maryhill became a police burgh in 1854 it required a building that combined council chamber and offices, court and police station. To meet this a former bakery which was sited almost opposite the White House and at the corner of the Modern Maryhill Road and Fingal Street was converted for the purpose.
At that time many members of the public relied on clocks on public buildings to provide them with information about the time. In addition, although of modest dimensions, some of the new commissioners considered that a clock was required to enhance the status of the building. They, along with other local business men, came together to finance this and, in November 1857, the clock was unveiled.
To make the right impression it required to be in a high part of the building and, ideally, a new clock tower would have been the best solution. Instead, it was decided to place the clock at the base of the chimney stack that was position centrally on the front elevation of the chambers. This proved problematical, as its close proximity to the flues subjected it to variations in heat, along with exposure to soot ingress. It appears also that it was not fitted with a protective glass cover over the dial, giving a further problem of water damage. This would be exacerbated by its exposed position, facing westwards across the Kelvin valley.
March 1863 saw the wedding of Edward, Prince of Wales, to Princess Alaxandra, an event that was celebrated with a grand ball in the burgh chambers. It was alleged that, during this, one over-exuberant guest started ringing the bell attached to the clock, resulting in its later notoriety over accurate time-keeping.
Eight years later, Princess Louise, daughter of Queen Victoria, was due to marry the Marquis of Lorne, and this prompted a poem from “A Canny Scot” in the Dumbarton Herald of 16th March 1871, entitled The Maryhill Police Clock. This warned against any repetition of the high jinks of 1863.
In wha’s bunnet is a bee,
When the Prince o’ Wales was married
He set me a’ agee.
Ding! Dong! Ding!
He pu’d the string’
And many rugged he;
He shook me a’
Big wheels and a’
And now I’m what you see.
And as Louise is getting wed,
The body may gang wild;
And bring us baith doon o’er his head,
wi’ sic a din and thud
A stitch in time
Often saves nine
Forewarned’s forearmed they tell;
So if ye be
In merry key
Tug canny at the bell.
In 1874 apparently there were further complaints about the clock, voiced in correspondence in the Dumbarton Herald. On 11th April 1872 a further poem appeared in the newspaper, this time allegedly a plea from the clock itself to the police superintendent, Captain George Anderson. It was titled An Epistle from the Hall Clock to Captain Anderson.
Dear Geordie, gin I had my wull,
O’ that officious body near the Bull,[i]
I’d bring my pendulum o’er his skull
Wi’ sic a crack
I’ll gie him yet his bellyful
Or break his back
Se what he did in papers say,
To think o’t yet my heart is wae;
Last Thursday being the Fast Day,[ii]
Great crowds did come
To see the boats sail up the brae[iii]
And me I’ the lum
The louns aroun’ did gibe and gaffe;
Baith the weel-to-do and the riff-raff.
Like to a time when auld Calcraf [iv]
is brocht away
Frae hame, to polish criminal aff,
‘cording to law.
Daft D____ was among the crowd,
Tho’ his talk’s not easy understood;
He aye look’d up and said fu’ proud,
Wi’ rougish glee –
“Somebody says” he spak out loud
“it is daft like me.”
At ilka curious upturned face
As weel’s I could I made grimace;
And as soon’s you like get a glass case
To keep me richt;
And a bleeze o’ gas to let a’ the place,
see the hours at night.
The man wha heard me chap thirteen,
just said it in a fit o’ spleen;
Though I doubtna’ but sic things hae been
The proverb says;
“corbies shouldna’ pick out corbies’ e’en”
let him mend his ways
The pleasures seekers used to run,
by the Three Tree Well, and Kelvingrove;[v]
and seek the hermit, fancied cove.
That hallowed spot
Thae wonders noo I’m classed above
By the Canny Scot.
Great things spring whiles frae but sma’ germs,
And I hear you’re on the closest terms,[vi]
Wi’ the Lord Lyon, King at Arm,
Wha’s comin doon
To sketch me in a coat of arms[vii]
For our auld toon.
Now dinna’ think that I’m uncivil,
For sending to the printer’s devil,
To set and press this rhyming drivel;
Sae I’ll quat my pen;
May the Lord preserve you from a’ evil.
Amen! Amen!
The Police Clock
The Lum April 8th 1872
By September 1877, with the new burgh buildings nearing completion, consideration was given to the future of its predecessor. It still remained an inaccurate time-keeper and, when it was noted it was striking One o’ clock when it should have been denoting six, another brief poem appeared in the press.
Whiles it wags awa’
but it’s oftener standin’ still
It’s as gude’s nae clock ava’
The clock at Maryhill[viii]
Despite this it retained its loyal fans and, on Hogmanay 1877 a group of young men gathered to greet the New Year for one final time at the old building. They positioned themselves at the stone magazine on the opposite side of Maryhill Road, or Main Street, as it was known then. This magazine survives today, being the inshot in the canal boundary wall just north of the White House. The clock in the newly constructed barracks was heard to strike midnight, along with the sound of the pipes and rums, greeting in 1878. This was followed almost immediately by the bell at the newly opened Gas Works at the foot of Butny Brae. Still the clock in the lum maintained a dignified silence and, after a further few minutes, deigned to acknowledge the sizeable crowd of supporters standing opposite. As the clock began striking the assembled throng cheered lustily then, as the last notes died away across the valley, dispersed to continue their revelries elsewhere.
Consideration turned towards the future use of the old building, a proposal to convert it into a Working Men’s Mechanical Institution receiving a poor response locally. An advert was placed in the Glasgow Herald on 20th January 1878 but apparently did not produce any decent offers. The old clock was allowed to run down, leading in January 1879 to numerous complaints to the commissioners. Probably reluctantly, they had it serviced and in operation again by May, although it continued to be reported as producing and “uncertain sound,” while maintaining its reputation for poor time keeping.
June 1880 saw the commissioners decide to expose the buildings for rental and, in September, they received a conditional offer. This came from Thomas Reid, a Glasgow tobacconist, who was to become the owner of several public houses within the city in the last decades of the 19th century. He offered a price of £1800 subject to his being granted a hotel and inn licence, good title, free of all bonds (loans) and entry by Martinmas (December 1880.) One of the commissioners, the architect Alexander Petrie, pointed out that the Union Bank held security on the buildings, negating one of Reid’s conditions while it remained. The bank had made inquiries when it was forts placed on the market and Petrie suggested that they be approached once more. Probably aware that Maryhill had ample public house provision, Petrie suggested that the bank would be a superior owner. Unfortunately, by this time the bank had premises in a handsome building that survives today at 1944 Maryhill Road.
By October it had been learned that Reid’s application had lapsed and the future of the buildings and the clock were in doubt once more. By this time the clock was out of order once more, despite having been overhauled in August and a Mr Desh being tasked to keep it wound properly.
The continued complaints about the clock led to the publishing of a last poem in the Dumbarton Herald of 23rd October 1880. Patrick Carrigan was an Irish born nail maker, who had lived and worked in Maryhill since the 1840s and who had died recently. It is probable that as well as a reference to the clock, it is a farewell to a well-loved local worthy.
PAT CARRIGAN’S DEFENCE OF THE CLOCK
He’d put a certain gooson from the makin’ o’ songs,
If he had his nose in his ould smiddy tools;
Aya and red hot we’d mak’ them, at least so he says
With his brogue, his blarney and bletherin’ ways
The clock he declares to be good of its kind
Tho’ it’s sometimes too fast, or a little behind.
For all of us vary betimes, so he says
With his brogue, his blarney and bletherin’ ways
The man at the lock is a dirty spalpeen
For sayin’ he heard it strikin’ thirteen;
I will show that it never could do it, because
With my brogue, my blarney and bletherin’ ways
Once more the old building was advertised, this time to be rented out rather than sold, one suggestion being that it be converted into a model lodging house. Although its ‘fan club’ appears to have disappeared, at least one member remained faithful. On Hogmanay 1880 a drunk was found, sitting on the magazine wall, “waitin’ for the clock tae bring in the New year.”
In February 1881 it was revealed that Dr William MacDonald had agreed to convert the old burgh buildings into a surgery, while extending the living accommodation for use by his family. This was ironic, as Dr MacDonald was a strong critic of the commissioners and would be one of those who campaigned for amalgamation with Glasgow, which occurred in 1891. He died in 1897 but the buildings continued to be used as a surgery until 1948, when it was demolished. The clock continued to be maintained, this being taken over by Glasgow Corporation by the end of the 19th century but kept its hard won reputation for its singular method of telling time.
Today the site is occupied by a small tenement block, next to Kilmun Street, originally built in the 1950s as police housing.
NOTES
[i] The “Bull” referred to is the Black Bull Inn, which lay to the south of the burgh hall and was one of the early hostelries in the village. Unlike many of the others it appears to have been of good reputation, supervised for many years by Mrs Martin, then her daughter Isabella. At the founding of the burgh, it housed the commissioners’ meetings until the burgh court was ready, then was the scene of many burgh functions until the building at Gairbraid Avenue was completed in 1874
[ii] In the 19th century the Church of Scotland still held regular fast days, in which members were expected to practice abstinence in all things. By the 1870s they had become holidays for many working people, who would take the opportunity to enjoy a day out of the city where possible.
[iii] Opposite the burgh hall was the start of the flight of five locks which led down to the Kelvin Viaduct on the Forth & Clyde Canal (Locks 21 to 25) In an area when there was regular traffic through the canal in both directions, this would be a place of great activity and a great attraction to the population. As an added attraction, in the adjacent Kelvin Dock was the shipyard of J & R Swan, birthplace of the Clyde “puffer” and there would be several vessels under construction to be inspected, if only at long range.
[iv] Calcraf was the public executioner
[v] This is a reference both to a local beauty spot and the famous song “Kelvingrove” written in 1821 by Thomas Lyle. The Three Tree Well (also known as the Pear Tree Well) lay close to the Kelvin near the present day Ford Road. It was a favourite trysting spot for young people, until one girl was found murdered there. The murder was never solved but the “traditional” story is that the culprit was a jilted lover. When the railway was built through Kirklee, the well was buried in the banking, although today water from it seeps intermittently down into the Kelvin. “Kelvingrove” was written in praise of the gorge which runs from Garrioch Quadrant down approximately to Queen Margaret Drive. Due to the name being used at a later date for a house further downstream, it has been incorrectly associated with the area in which the Art galleries stand.
[vi] Capt. Anderson was well known for “social climbing” in Maryhill
[vii] In the end the coat of arms was produced by Alexander Thomson, pattern designer at Maryhill Print Work and chronicler of the 19th century burgh, to whom all of us owe a great debt for the information he recorded. Although included in a later book by a Lord Lyon King at Arms, it appears that the arms were never registered (that cost money). This came to light In 1955, when North Kelvinside Senior Secondary School were seeking to use them as part of their revised school badge.
[viii] Lennox Herald, 27th January 1877
The author of this essay is a retired training manager who carries out research into less well known areas of local history in Glasgow and the West of Scotland. As a Maryhill native he has a particular interest in the history of the area and, especially, that of the old police burgh up until 1891. These essays are taken from the research notes that have been drawn up over a period of years and are intended as an introduction which can be used by those seeking more information.
Maryhill Burgh Halls Trust want to thank William Black for his incredible support throughout the years, having shared all his in-depth research and snippets since the start of the Trust’s journey into the history of the Burgh. We are also very grateful for allowing us to post his wonderful essays to our blog. This is the third one of the series, you can read the first one on shipbuilding by clicking here and the second one on the estate of Maryhill here.