FINAL CALL FOR THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
16 January 2007
One of Bristol's last male bastions, the Clifton Club, has broken with nearly two centuries of tradition by voting to admit women members. But, as local historian Maurice Fells discovers, not everyone is happy with that decision. The news that the Clifton Club has enrolled women members for the very first time brings to an end almost two centuries of men-only business clubs in Bristol.
It was in 1811 that the first such club, the Commercial Rooms, opened its doors in Corn Street along the lines of Lloyd's Coffee House in London. The 'Rooms', as the club was affectionately known, became a meeting place for businessmen, merchants and stockbrokers who could, over coffee, discuss the issues of the day and make deals. Four years later, Sir Richard Vaughan presided over a meeting to discuss the formation of a 'gentlemen's social club' in Clifton Village.
But it was not until 1856 that the present Clifton Club moved into its rather sumptuous rooms in The Mall. One of the club's early members was WG Grace, the legendary Gloucestershire and England cricketing doctor, who lived for two years in nearby Victoria Square. Today, this private club for professional and business people offers lunches and recreational facilities, including a billiards room and bridge room. For the more energetic, squash courts are provided in a separate building - part of its portfolio of Clifton properties.
Many of its 257 members, who pay a £400 annual subscription, recently gathered in the club for a presentation about its future. One long-standing member, who didn't want to be named, told me: 'Many were saying that women should never be admitted as members, but after seeing the facts and figures they changed their minds, though a handful did vote against the move.
'True, the club has rental income from properties, but we need more members and more of them using the facilities including the bar.' The club's premises, originally the Assembly Rooms and Clifton Hotel, were designed in 1806 by Francis Greenway, a Mangotsfield architect. When it was finished in 1811, it included a grand ballroom, 70 apartments, 20 sitting rooms, tea rooms and lobbies. The Bristol historian John Latimer described the inaugural party as 'the most brilliant ball ever known in Clifton'.
However, Greenway was not there. He had come to legal grief over the financing of a house in nearby Cornwallis Crescent. Accused of forging a promissory note for £250, he was declared bankrupt, convicted of fraud and sentenced to death.
Having spent some time in the infamous Newgate Prison - now the site of The Mall/ Galleries shopping centre foyer - Greenway's death sentence was commuted to transportation and he was put on a ship bound for Australia.
Meanwhile, his Assembly Rooms and hotel were completed by local builder Joseph Kay.Once in Australia, Greenway soon landed on his feet, winning an architectural commission to design many of Sydney's public buildings, including law courts and churches. The governor was so impressed that he appointed him Civil Architect. Greenway became known as the 'Father of Australian architecture' and, after his death, the government even honoured him by putting his portrait on its 10 bills. He died in Australia, aged 60, never having returned to Bristol.
But Greenway is not forgotten - a commemorative plaque near the club's entrance was unveiled in 1977 on the bi-centenary of his birth. His Assembly Rooms became the centre of Regency Clifton's social and cultural life. Lavish banquets and balls were held there and prominent writers gave public readings of their works. The hotel received the royal seal of approval in 1830 when Princess Victoria stayed there while on a tour with her mother, the Duchess of Kent.
The young monarch-to-be stayed in a first floor suite and waved from one of the hotel's balconies to people who had gathered in The Mall. The hotel closed in 1854. During the last war, the place became a favourite haunt for military officers and government officials who were working in nearby buildings requisitioned as wartime offices. Let's hope that last year's decision to admit women doesn't turn out to be case of history repeating itself.
When Corn Street's Commercial Rooms was faced with dwindling membership - by the mid 1990s numbers had fallen to 285 - it took the same course of action.
In 1994, members heard that the club had debts totalling £104, 405 including a bank overdraft of £65,000. Five weeks later, the club closed its doors - the few women that had joined were not enough to save the place from extinction.
The premises were sold to the Wetherspoon pub chain which, while retaining its historical features, including the name, turned the listed Georgian building into a real ale bar. It's now the only pub in the country where pints are pulled beneath a circular lantern light, 31 feet in diameter, covered by an elegant dome born by 12 caryatids in the form of female figures. The retained wind vane above the bar would let merchants know whether it was safe for their ships to negotiate the treacherous Avon Gorge, and the wall boards still contain the names of all the club's presidents, treasurers and secretaries.
The death warrant for another club, the 90-year-old Bristol, also in Corn Street, was signed in 1975 when its 300-odd members decided that it was no longer economic. The spacious building had offered its members a dining room, lounge billiards room, a bar and the daily papers for a £30 annual subscription. A barber was also on hand. Around the corner, in Marsh Street, yet another men-only club, The Constitutional, closed its doors in the 1980s.
