King Cotton meets utopian socialism

Founded by David Dale in 1786, the New Lanark mills along the River Clyde processed cotton from the Americas, and, at its peak, employed over 2,500 people including approximately 500 children. The complex was bought out by Dale’s son-in-law, Robert Owen, a philanthropist with an interest in social reform. Under his oversight, the progressive social and welfare programs that were implemented in New Lanark paved the way for many of the labor laws and institutions that we take for granted today. Owen instituted early restrictions on child labor and financed the construction of the first infants’ school in Britain. He also established  a village store within the complex that was an influential model for the development of the consumers’ co-operative market. Also, from 1898, all residents had free electric light in their flats powered by hydroelectricity. Contrary to popular thinking at the time, Owen demonstrated that it was not necessary for industrial enterprise to treat its workers badly in order to be profitable.Most of the original mill buildings and residences survive and have been restored, and  Mike and I spent a sunny Sunday afternoon wandering amongst them along the Falls of the Clyde exploring the complex. One couldn’t help thinking about how the lives of the Scottish people that lived and worked here were intricately connected to so many narrative threads that I used to perceive as being more or less American, in particular, how the their livelihood was utterly dependant on the use of slave labor in the American south.

And the Merseybeat goes on . . .

Liverpool, with its famous waterfront on the River Mersey, is a historically great shipping port, industrial powerhouse, and center of maritime trade. The city grew in prominence in the 18th century through sugar, spice, tobacco, and slave trade with the Americas and quickly became Britain’s most important and powerful seaport. By the start of the 19th century, 40% of the world’s trade is reputed to have passed through the port of Liverpool and the cultural and architectural achievements of the city reflect this wealth. Mike and I spent three days of our Easter holiday here where the Fab Four began, checking out the sights. Liverpool will celebrate its 800th anniversary in 2008, and there is ample evidence that the city is sprucing itself up for the big event. We passed several big construction projects along the historic waterfront, including the site of a new local history museum, and there are big infrastructure improvements planned as well, such as the renovations at the main train station and the construction of a new bus terminal hub.

A major draw for us was the chance to see the architectural model of Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral (R.C.), which was on view at the splendid Walker Art Gallery. Designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens in 1930 but only partially realized due to financial constraints, the cathedral would have dominated the Liverpool skyline and been the second-largest church in the world if it had been completed. Over 500 feet high, just the dome itself would have been taller than St Peter’s Basilica in Rome. A smaller modern structure by Sir Frederick Gibberd was eventually built upon the massive foundations and crypt, the only portions of Lutyen’s plan to have been actualized. Dazzling to explore, the architecture mixes a muscular classicism with brutally Modern and Byzantine elements. If you ever find yourself in Liverpool, it is definitely worth a look. If that wasn’t enough, as an added nostalgic bonus, Mike and I saw members of the local Polish community filing into the main crypt chapel while we were there to get their Easter baskets blessed by the bishop–just like my family used to do when I was young!

The river is central to Liverpool history, with the highlight being the Albert Dock, the largest dock and warehouse complex in the world when it was built in 1846. Today, the Dock houses the Merseyside Maritime Museum, an outpost of the Tate Britain, and various restaurants and shops.

Along Liverpool’s Pier Head are some of the city’s most impressive landmarks, recognizable from both land and sea. Most famous of these are the “The Graces,” a spectacular suite of buildings that served as the headquarters for Liverpool’s major maritime concerns: The Royal Liver Society, the Cunard Company, and the Port of Liverpool Authority. The Royal Liver Building is crowned by a pair of mythical Liver birds; popular legend has it that while one giant bird looks out over the city to protect its people, the other bird looks out to sea at the new sailors coming in to port. Nearby are the majestic Art Deco Georges Dock ventilator tower and the White Star Line building, the headquarters for the prominent shipping company that owned the ill-fated liners Titanic and Britannic.

Some of my most favorite parts of the trip were spent just wandering the streets and experiencing some of the local culture–wandering into shops, eating in cafes, discovering Liverpool’s pristine Georgian neighborhoods, and poking about the city’s Chinatown. One night we had dinner at the Philharmonic Dining Rooms, a terrific pub with a stunning art nouveau interior with intricate carved woodwork, repoussé copper panels, and great decorative tilework and stained glass. Mike was even inspired enough to have a pint, shocking!

Be sure to check out more photos from the trip on Mike’s Flickr page.

First on a laundry list to fight global warming

According to an article in today’s New York Times, if all Americans uses a clothesline to dry their laundry for six months, it would save 3.3% of the country’s total residential output of carbon dioxide. Who knew that frugality and thrift could be so green?

Electric clothes-dryers seem to be somewhat of an anomaly here in Great Britain and it is common for many people to hang their washing up to dry. Our flat didn’t come with one, and, when we asked our neighbors and co-workers about it, we were told that this was pretty normal. At first, I thought that this would be a major pain, but it’s actually turned out to be a very simple adjustment.

When our tenement flat was built at the turn of the century, the kitchen was outfitted with a wooden drying-rack that was hung from the ceiling on pulleys and ropes. Tenants could lower it to hang their laundry and then raise it up out of the way. Nowadays we hang our wet clothes on a white folding rack from Woolworth’s, which holds at least two loads rather comfortably, and clothes are usually dry and ready to be folded in a few hours. (It sits in the corner where the kitchen table will go, if we ever buy one.) The only drawback is that the towels and sheets tend to get stiff as a board, but it takes just a few uses to make them supple and soft again.

Now that I know just how much air-drying can help reduce one’s dependence on costly energy sources, why would I go back to the electric way? Sometimes traditional methods really are the best.

The peace of wild things

This spring has kept me surprisingly busy so far between travelling, my volunteer work, and the effort of getting acclimated to life in a new and different country. And although, dear readers, I’m afraid that I haven’t been terribly prompt about keeping up correspondences with friends and family back home, I assure you that they are never very far from my thoughts. In fact, I often wish that they were here to share these remarkable experiences with me.

One companion that I’ve been thinking an awful lot about recently is my dog Gus, who is living with my parents while I am in Scotland. He’s been such a large part of my life for so long that living in Glasgow has been a bit disorienting without him. The bed seems too empty, the house too quiet. In Washington, the better part of our days were bound by shared routines together: going for walks, relaxing in the park, and meeting our friends and neighbors (and their dogs). Here, the hours can seem to stretch on without his company and without the routines that we used to mark our time together.

A few days ago (on Easter, ironically enough), I learned some bad news about Gus. He was diagnosed with cancer late last year and had two operations over the winter to remove the tumor. Although early tests indicated that he was in the clear, my parents recently discovered two new growths and had them biopsied, with regrettable results. Because of their location, the new tumors cannot be removed and so we wait. Right now though, Gus is happy and robust. He has rabbits to chase and deer shit to sniff and roll about in. More importantly, he is surrounded by the loving attentions of my parents and their dog, Cocoa, as long as he is able.

An ocean away, I can’t help but still feel responsible for Gus’s well-being and also, therefore, somewhat helpless at being unable to help handle his care. If it were feasible for me to fly back to the States I certainly would.

Dear friend, I miss you so much and wish I were there to give you big hugs and juicy biscuits. The living room curtains are open here and I can see a few stars shining in through the window tonight, and Venus too which is bright this time of year. It’s some comfort to know that they are shining on you too.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their life with forethought
of grief, I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
—from “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

The golden age of air travel comes to Scotland

I had the good fortune to spend part of the day at Glasgow Airport in order to help colleagues who are developing a podcast on the facility. The original building was designed by Sir Basil Spence in 1966 and will be featured in an upcoming exhibition and publication devoted to a reassessment of his work. The British Airports Authority took ownership of the site in the 1970s and embarked on a major redevelopment campaign that extended the terminal and left the original building entombed within the new structure. Today, the barrelled-shaped concrete arches that once gave passengers a feeling of arrival now form the facade of the check-in counter area. Fresh on the heels of designing the rebuilt Coventry Cathedral, Spence was represented in the media as being a national tastemaker, and, like Eero Saarinen and his work at Dulles and New York, envisioned a building that was both functional and inspiring. While clearly not as innovative or successful as these examples, Glasgow Airport did prove to be immensely popular with the public and people would often drive to the terminal simply to have dinner at the airport restaurant and watch the planes from the observation deck. It is hoped that the podcast will enrich today’s visitors to the history of the airport, and, while helping them decode the remaining elements of the original architecture, evoke the drama of this exciting time in Glasgow aviation.