Shambles (1950s and 1960s)

Where Scribes Bookshop is now, on the corner of Great King and St David Streets in Dunedin, there was once a notorious flat, called the Shambles. It was well known for it’s parties and as a location to go to continue drinking once the pubs had closed.

It’s not entirely clear from where the name of the flat originated: it may have been the shambolic nature of the place itself, or it may, as has been suggested by a former resident, been named for a place in Manchester of the same name.

Shambles is an old name and derives from Viking word Shamel apparently meaning ‘bench’, ‘booth’ or ‘shelf’ and the name is found in many places in the UK where there are market places.

The most famous example such a place is the Shambles in York which is allegedly mentioned in the Doomsday Book, one of the few streets that is. This would make it over 900 years old.

This is a quintessential medieval street with upper storeys of buildings stretching out across the street precariously towards each other. The street was once a flesh market (hence also being known as Flesshamel) – that is, a street of butchers. Livestock were slaughtered in the streets and it’s been suggested that it is this resulting mess that provides the word shambles with its contemporary definition. In fact the OED gives three definitions: 1) a mess or muddle, 2) a butcher’s slaughterhouse, 3) a scene of carnage.

Reports about the Shambles in Dunedin, of parties and exploding pans of golden dough boys from the 1950s and 60s, suggest the OEDs third definition may be most approprite for explaining the name of our Great King Street residence.

Hernando’s Hideaway

Hernando’s Hideaway, 25 Queens Street, has a terrific sign.

It owes it’s name to the club about which the song Hernando’s Hideaway was written by Adler and Ross for the musical The Pajama Game in 1953. The clip above shows Carol Haney (Gladys Hotchkiss) and John Raitt (Sid Sorokin) in 1957 film version of The Pajama Game (1957).

Lyrics to Hernando’s Hideaway

I know a dark secluded place.
A place where no one knows your face.
A glass of wine a fast embrace.
It’s called Hernando’s Hideaway ole!
All you see are silhouettes.
And all you hear are castanets.
And no one cares how late it gets.
Not at Hernando’s Hideaway ole!
:::Instrumental:::
At the golden fingerbowl or any place you go.
:::Instrumental:::
You’ll meet your uncle Max and everyone you know.
:::Instrumental:::
But if we go to the spot that I am thinking of
You will be free, to gaze at me, and talk of love.
Just knock three times and whisper low, that you and I were sent by Joe.
Then Strike a match and you will know your in Hernando’s Hideaway OLE!
:::Instrumental:::
I know a dark secluded place.
A place where no one knows your face.
A glass of wine a fast embrace.
It’s called Hernando’s Hideaway ole!
:::Instrumental:::
At the golden finger bowl or any place you go.
:::Instrumental:::
You’ll meet your Uncle Max and everyone you know.
:::Instrumental:::
But if we go to the spot that I am thinking of
You will be free, to gaze at me, and talk of love.
Just knock three times and whisper low, that you and I were sent by Joe.
Then Strike a match and you will know your in Hernando’s Hideaway OLE!
:::Instrumental:::

(Source: http://www.youtube.com/)

895 members and lots of photos being tagged today

Maybe it’s the end of exams at Otago … whatever the reason there’s been a flurry of tagging of photos on the Dunedin named student flats group on Facebook: The Manor, Moe’s, Kelpfish, Beaver Lodge, Beehive, Chip off the Old Block, Fairlie Lodge, Wahaha, The Wandering Penis, Barcelona, The Moat, and the flat with the most beautiful sign, Howe Street Golf Club.

A connection with Caxton Press

While browsing some old editions of Home and Building via the NZETC, I came across a wonderful article about the Caxton Press.

This is relevant to the project for a couple of reasons: the project on named flats has it genesis in a print culture study, and therefore owes a great deal to the history and culture of print in New Zealand. Secondly, Baxter’s poem “A Small Ode on Mixed Flatting” was published at Caxton.

First page of baxter's Small Ode on Mixed flatting, published in 1967 by Caxton Press, CHCH

A Small Ode On Mixed Flatting. Christchurch: The Caxton Press, [1967]. Brasch PR 9641 B3 S5.

Of additional interest to me is mention of Caxton and other NZ presses preserving the craft of printing by continuing the work begun by William Morris at a time where in the UK, industrialisation of the printing industry was subsuming it’s craft history. ‘“I began printing books,” said Morris, “with the hope of producing something which would have a definite claim to beauty, while at the same time they should be easy to read and should not dazzle the eye or trouble the intellect …”

View the article here: The Caxton Press / Brian Bell, Home and Building, Vol 18 No.1 1955, p15f