History of St Philips Public Library
Thousands of cars and buses pour through Trinity Road every day, but I wonder how many people notice the buildings. There's the 1970s police station, of course, and Holy Trinity Church, now used for concerts, with its old vicarage next door, but take another look - there's a library there as well. Today it's known as Trinity Road, but when it opened its doors to the public on Saturday, November 7, 1896, it was known as St Philips Public Library. The Western Daily Press newspaper gave the occasion a very nice write-up, praising all the officials involved and saying what a good job they had done. When people laughed or cheered, the event was quoted in brackets. How times have changed.
Despite the razzmatazz, this wasn't the district's first library. The Public Libraries Act had been adopted by Bristol in 1874 and St Philips was chosen for its first branch library. Opening on Saturday, July 8, 1876, it was situated in a building which stood next to the old Hannah More School on the corner of Braggs Lane (both now demolished). The man behind the project, Sir Joseph Dodge Weston, a local MP and JP, even put in some of his own money, but it was never a popular building. But that doesn't mean it wasn't used. In 1885 there were 46,957 borrowers. If you compare this to the Central Library - which had 64,548 - it's not too bad at all. What is interesting is the type of borrowers. There were 763 apprentices, 9,232 artisans, 7,353 assistants, 3,209 clerks, 323 employers, 997 errand boys, 852 labourers, 1,066 gentlemen, 10,063 ladies, 1,566 professionals, 9,879 scholars and 1,654 students.
It has to be said that not all of these people lived in the area, but they probably worked nearby. After a lot of pressure, it was decided to build a new library - designed by the great architect W V Gough - on the site of a former saw mills.
From the outside it looks like a two-storey building - but it isn't. It's just very lofty, with high, beautiful, arched beams which support the roof. You entered the building through a vestibule where a mosaic floor greeted you. You then entered a newspaper room which occupied the whole length of the frontage. Six arches separated that from the library itself. There was enough room for 15,000 books, but only 10,000 were ever stocked in those early days.
These were not selected by the reader, but had to be requested under a 'closed access' system. They were then found by a librarian - a series of indicators attached to the shelves showing which books were out and which were available. An 'open access' system - something we now take for granted - didn't come into being until 1925. The shelves were very high, which made the library seem very gloomy. In fact, there were more complaints about lighting over the next few years than anything else, especially in the reading room. Nevertheless, over the next five years librarians came from all over the country to see how the St Philips Library operated.
Local councillors also paid visits on a regular basis. Their entries in the visitors' book include such comments as 'found things in good order', 'about 40 readers present', 'examined replacements', 'agreed to prolong the life of 13 books' or 'found the staff working efficiently and harmoniously.'
Readers were encouraged to make suggestions. One man in the 1920s said that he hoped that 'all Christians may form a Christian brotherhood for the extension of God's Kingdom to help the poor'. His comments went on to fill a whole page, but he never did get to say what the library should do about it. And in the 1930s several men were brave enough to request that the library subscribe to the Daily Worker ( a socialist newspaper). Unsurprisingly, staff and the library committee turned the request down. But they did decide to stock several South Wales newspapers, as many workers and their families had come from there in the 1900s looking for work. With lodgings in the Barton Hill and Newtown areas, the papers kept them in touch with events back home.
During the last war, books such as Notes On Cement And Reinforced Concrete and Making A Will were passed as acceptable. But What Every Man Should Know About War was denied, probably because the library committee thought that too much knowledge could be a dangerous thing. What was far more dangerous were the incendiary bombs that fell during the Blitzes of November 24, 1940, March 16, 1941, and Good Friday, April 11, 1941, all of which caused minor damage. Luckily, the auxiliary fire service and the police dealt with them promptly. During the 1950s and 1960s, the population of St Philips declined. Much had been destroyed during the war, but the Corporation demolished even more. People moved to new housing estates with brand new libraries - often built in the Lego school of architecture.
Then in 1987 Trinity Road Library got a major revamp. A new entrance was made in the centre of the building, with the old vestibule used - for a time anyway - by people paying their rent and rates. The library was divided to make more rooms, with the high ceiling hidden above a suspended one. At least the library had survived - but for how long? Today, thousands of people who have come to live in this country use the library, and it has a good selection of books from around the world. A team of four part-time staff work there four days a week.
I'm sure more people would use the library if they could park nearby, but the road outside is fast and dangerous. Several vehicles have lost control and crashed into the railings. But St Philips has a few little gems left over from past glories. The windows haven't changed, and you can still see part of the original arch ceiling in the community room. And there's a beautiful bust - it's been there for more than 100 years - of Christopher James Thomas, who was on the council for 38 years, between 1845 and 1878, and Mayor in 1871. He was the owner of Thomas' soap factory - the building now occupied by Gardiner Haskins.
Quiet please: The newspaper room at St Philips Public Library, which attracted many thousands of locals, including migrant workers from Wales who wanted to keep up to date with the news back home.
