Carlisle The Hairy Bikers' Pubs That Built Britain

Pubs have been at the heart of Britain for hundreds of years.

Cheers, mucker.

-And city taverns.

-And village inns.

Landlords have pulled pints for locals, travellers...

And, well, the odd king or two.

Meself included.

Try and have a drink now.

LAUGHTER

But with 30 pubs closing every week,

our historic taverns need defending.

Step, step...

We're heading out to discover amazing stories

linked to the nation's watering holes.

-Not far to go.

-How far?

-Oh, a couple of miles.

-What?!

From the Wars of the Roses...

Shipbuilding on the Clyde!

We've ditched our bikes so that we can sample an ale or two.

Get in!

This is very good.

THEY LAUGH

So join us for...

-BOTH:

-The Hairy Bikers' Pubs That Built Britain.

Today, we're in Carlisle to check out a crackdown.

A government crackdown.

Can you believe during the First World War

the state ran every single pub in this city?

And where better to find out more than down those very boozers?

Dave, imagine a time when civil servants

took over our very pubs.

That doesn't seem right.

And when you could only buy weak beer.

That's rubbish!

AND buying a round was illegal!

Oh, I see where you're going now, Si.

Honestly, sometimes you'd do anything

to get out of buying your old mate a pint.

Seriously though, to tell this fascinating story,

we're heading back to 1916,

two years into the First World War.

Front-line fighting was intense, but back on the home front,

there was another enemy - the demon drink.

So the government called time on boozy Brits

and introduced an extreme pub management scheme

in three areas crucial to the war effort.

The biggest scheme was here, in Carlisle,

and we're starting in a pub that found itself on the front line.

Do you know what, mucker?

Apparently, there were so many pubs in Carlisle

you could swing from door to door.

And this one here, the Howard Arms, is an absolute cracker.

Check out these tiles. Royal Doulton, I believe.

Is it? I'll tell you what, it's definitely selling its wares,

and it is a beautiful facade.

Look at this. "Lager, beer and stout. Wines, spirits and liqueurs."

Well, it's definitely a pub, it sells beer, we are here.

What are we waiting for?

100 years ago, this fine hostelry

became a magnet for workers and navvies pouring in

from the munitions factory recently built at nearby Gretna Green.

Historian Robert Duncan knows all about this boozy invasion

from the biggest ammunition works in Britain.

Ah, Robert.

-Hiya.

-Hello, I'm Si. Nice to meet you.

-Nice to meet you.

-Hello, Robert. I'm Dave. Nice to meet you.

-How you doing?

Well, we believe that you're a mine of information, sir.

Can you tell us what the pub was like

when the munitions factory was up and running?

It was certainly a busy place. There were a lot of workers

that came to Carlisle to build the factory

and were living in Carlisle at the time.

After work on the evening shift, they'd pile into the pubs.

The last train came into Carlisle five minutes before closing time.

They'd run in, there'd be pints on the bar ready for them.

Whiskeys, chasers.

They'd try and drink as much as possible in five minutes.

So they'd make today's binge drinkers look like amateurs.

So it was a bit of a case of lock up your daughters,

the boys are back in town and they're thirsty.

The boys would be back in town and they were definitely thirsty.

Up to 10,000 construction workers, or navvies, had been drafted in

to build the factory and housing.

Thirsty lads with money in their pockets.

Obviously, they'd had a hard day at work, they wanted to relax,

they were coming into a city which had not experienced

kind of that social change before.

Do you know, I should imagine that excessive binge drinking

and a munitions factory,

it was a proper, you know, explosive recipe for disaster.

Yeah, I mean, it caused a lot of national headlines.

There's people drunk on the streets,

people urinating all over the place,

the place stank of whiskey.

They were really worried about the effect

on munitions production during the war.

So the government sent up people to look at what was happening here,

and they were really, really shocked.

I mean, you can see kind of one of these cartoons here.

You have a worker punching a local ticket collector

-at the station.

-So it was like the Wild West, then.

It was completely lawless to a point.

Proper frontier town experience.

Bust-ups and barroom brawls were all the rage,

and we've found the drunkenness in Carlisle graph to prove it.

Look at that massive spike in 1916.

No wonder the government stepped in.

What did they actually do to stop this?

The first thing they did was

they closed 50 pubs in Carlisle straightaway.

They nationalised the drinks industry

-in Carlisle and the surrounding area.

-Really?!

So the government bought out all of the pubs,

they bought anything to do with the booze trade.

I mean, every product behind the bar was a national product.

So all the beer was state-produced,

all the rum, the whiskey, the gin because they wanted to control it.

Can you imagine, though, that the boozy pub landlord, all of a sudden,

would start coming in with a bowler hat and a fold umbrella.

"I am now a civil servant and a guardian of the peace."

The experiment became known as the State Management Scheme.

The government took over the pubs,

fixed booze prices and stopped Sunday drinking,

which apparently upset the Bishop of Carlisle

who didn't like to pray with a parched throat.

Amen to that.

-So, did the look of the pubs change in those days?

-It did.

I mean, one of the things they did,

they banned all advertising of drinks in Carlisle.

You have reports of people walking past pubs

and not realising they were actually pubs

-because there was no identifiable advertising.

-Right!

So you have a picture here of the Howard Arms,

and you'll see there's no advertising on the outside.

Oh, no, there's not. They've rendered it all.

-It's such a fine building.

-Yeah.

At the heart of State Management

was a rethinking of the great British pub's role,

swapping hard-core dens of drunkenness

for social hubs of civilised drinking.

# I'd like a double... #

And how about a big hearty meal to soak up that pint?

Now you're talking, Kingie.

Here to lift the pie lid on state-managed pub grub

is food historian Seren Evans-Charrington,

and she's come dressed for the occasion.

So, Seren, what would have been on the menu

in the state-owned pubs in Carlisle in those days?

I think it's really rustic, hearty food.

You know, this is the idea. It's nothing too fancy.

It's not gastro pub menu like we've got today.

This is things like roasted marrow bones, tripe and onions,

good, hearty food.

-Beer blotters.

-Yeah, that's exactly it.

-Yeah, proper...

-Things to mop up the alcohol.

So was there any...was there any food served at all

-before the state got involved in pubs?

-Absolutely.

What you were looking at before was, you know, your cold meat.

So you'd always have a ham behind the bar,

or, you know, something a bit cold

served with a couple of slices of bread.

Just a little appetiser to help you keep on drinking.

Whereas when the state pubs come in,

then what they want to do is mop up all the alcohol.

So they want things like your hotpots come in

and all of this sort of food.

But strict wartime rationing meant getting creative with cuisine.

So, what have we got?

Well, here we have a traditional pub pie,

which would've been typical of state pub food.

Now, you've got ox tongue in there, you've got ox liver,

and you've got ox kidney in there,

bacon fat in there and a ham end.

So all the offal and leftovers.

-Would you like to try a bit?

-Yeah.

-WHISPERS:

-There we go.

Mm, I like the crust.

I mean, I can taste ox tongue. Is it all offal?

I don't think it's offal. I think it's quite nice.

And this is turnip bread.

Now then, in 1916, we had a wheat flour shortage,

and so what they did was they replaced the wheat flour

with ground-up dried turnip, and this is exactly what this is.

-Are you feeling brave?

-Oh, yeah. No, I'd like to taste that.

-Yeah.

I going to just cut...

It's a little bit stodgy and it's a little bit heavy.

Are you feeling brave? Oh, they're going to share.

-You're not feeling that brave.

-SHE LAUGHS

-Well, it smells of turnips.

-Yeah.

One of the things was, one of the complaints was

about the turnip bread was that it gave people diarrhoea.

And it was a little bit of a cleanse for the system.

It's very rich, it's very wholesome,

and I can absolutely see why they'd introduce this

to blot up all of that alcohol.

And it's cheap. It's cheap, it's cheerful and it's filling.

-And that's the idea of it.

-Yeah, it is.

You could line the under seal of the Titanic with that.

-Just a bit, yeah.

-And with the gas from the bread,

you'd probably be able to fuel it as well. Vroom!

-Yeah, keep you warm.

-It would.

-Yeah.

Coal was in short supply, so, you know...

THEY LAUGH

So, Seren, do you think, then, that the state-owned pubs

have left us a food legacy, then?

Absolutely. I think the pub food, as we recognise it today,

is definitely harping back to this period.

We wouldn't be happy with just a bit of cold meat and a slice of bread.

-No, we wouldn't.

-We think of pub food as being hearty, wholesome.

That is all where it originates from.

Can you imagine that all the posh folks in the Cotswolds

who are sitting there in their gastro-pubs feeling smug...?

It started in Carlisle.

Yeah, it starts with frugal economics.

Here in the very north. Well, let's drink to that.

-BOTH:

-Cheers.

-Love your frock.

-Yeah, nice frock.

-Thank you.

Do you know what, mate? If the state took over the pubs,

you would've thought they would've renamed it,

-like, you know, The Cabinet Arms or something.

-Indeed.

-Or something like The Prime Minister's Head.

-Yeah.

Actually, that reminds me, Lloyd George once said

that alcohol was inflicting more damage on the war effort

than all the German submarines put together.

Well, I never.

From sinking ships to sinking pints.

There's more to Carlisle's pubs than inebriated navvies,

and the proof is in the pub signs.

So here's a couple of historical highlights.

The Spinner's Arms reminds us that this city

once had a booming textiles industry

with 11 cotton mills and 1,200 looms.

-That's cracking yarn. Spin me another.

-OK.

Well, The Cranemakers celebrates

Carlisle's world-famous Cowans Sheldon company.

Back in the day, they built the biggest cranes in the world.

Now that's pretty heavy metal.

The Joiners Arms is also known as The Blue Lugs

cos local joiners would pop in for a pint

with chalk tucked behind their ears.

Better than the spuds behind yours, Kingie.

Back on our highly regulated, very civilised

and state-sanctioned pub crawl,

it's time to find out what life was like for the workers

when they weren't propping up the bars.

Imagine, Si, if the government took over all the pubs tomorrow.

-There would be a revolution.

-There would. And you've got a point.

I mean, you think about it, munitions factories and hangovers,

it's an explosive combo, dude. Talking of which...

You know, I fancy finding out a bit more about that.

-And I'm going somewhere that's going to bowl me over.

-Oh!

We're leaving Carlisle behind and heading 17 miles north,

over the border to Eastriggs.

Gentlemen. Hello, hello.

While Dave's off playing with his bowls,

I'm joining Dr Chris Brader for

a fascinating glimpse into the working life

at what was then the biggest munitions factory in the world.

So, Chris, there's not much left today,

but what was the munitions factory like in its day?

Well, 100 years ago, this was a hive of activity.

It was an incredible operation when you think the factory

was actually nine miles in length.

-What?!

-Nine miles.

So it stretched from where we are now, from Eastriggs,

over to Gretna, then over the English border to Longtown.

At its peak, it employed over 20,000 mostly female workers

to build much-needed explosives for the front line.

So, Chris, why was the site so huge?

If you had a big explosion, the last thing you'd need would

be a domino effect where the whole factory was taken out,

so it was spaced out.

Right, right, right.

The volatile ingredients were kept in separate units

surrounded by blast-proof embankments.

So what were they actually making here?

-They were making an explosive called cordite.

-Right.

It was very, very volatile.

Cordite was a new gunpowder replacement

used for firing bullets and shells.

Let me show you what it actually looks like.

Oh, wow. Fantastic.

The women would hand mix explosive ingredients

into a paste-like dough.

-You can see...

-Oh, and there it is.

-There's the dough.

-That's the dough.

It looks like wholemeal bread dough.

You wouldn't want to eat that. It'd blow your bum off, wouldn't it?

It would, it certainly would.

Joking aside, there was some serious side-effects

for this young workforce.

We do know, for example, that the girls,

they had problems with their gums and their teeth,

but I suspect as well that it wasn't good news for your internal organs.

There was always the chance you would either be

poisoned, injured or killed even.

It was a dangerous occupation.

And I'm noticing from the photographs here, Chris, it's women.

That's right.

That's a really significant proportion of the workforce.

In its peak, Gretna employed round about 20,000 people,

and around 60% of those were women.

But not only women, but very young women as well.

The majority were actually aged under 21 years of age.

You had construction workers that were actually building

-the infrastructure of the factory.

-That's right.

And then you have the girls that were actually making this paste.

That's right.

Now, two populaces brought in from around the country.

That's, in itself, an explosive kind of recipe, isn't it?

So where would they go? What would they do?

This is literally the back of beyond,

and you've got to attract workers to come here and work there.

-So you've got to actually offer them pretty decent facilities.

-Right.

So what the government does is build

two purpose-built townships of Gretna and Eastriggs.

But, of course, there were no pubs. They were all in Carlisle.

Like the navvies, many of the girls headed into town

for a state-managed pub session.

But the girls were better behaved than the navvies,

and the government hoped they'd have an improving influence on the pubs.

What we do know is that, yes, women did drink more during the war,

but the drunkenness rates actually went down dramatically.

And who could begrudge these grafting gals

a well-earned lady's half for their hard work.

But it wasn't all hard graft for the workers.

The stage management scheme encouraged them to play, too.

I'm at a former state-run bowling green in Eastriggs,

And guess what? It's slap bang next to a former state-run pub.

I'm meeting David Taylor to find out more.

-Hello, David.

-Hi.

-Hello.

-Nice to see you.

-This is glorious, isn't it?

-Marvellous.

What is the connection between state-managed pubs and bowling?

Quite a lot of problems with the munitions work,

with the binge drinking, etc,

so the idea to restrict the drinking

and get them out in the fresh air, etc.

This meant building new state-managed pubs

with bowling greens attached.

Crafty, hey?

-So bowling versus pints.

-Yeah.

-Hey!

-Definitely.

Was it very popular in those days?

It did become very popular.

Once we got into the '30s, it was popular enough to have

a proper bowls league for the State Management Scheme.

-State Management Scheme.

-Yeah.

Incredible, isn't it, that the state actually had a hand

-in what's a really popular spot.

-Yeah, yeah, it did.

I mean, it made the game available to everybody as well, you know?

I mean, anybody could just nip down to the local pub

and try the game out.

It's interesting, though, because, obviously, it was to try

and get the workers away from the drink,

but you have what you call wet teams, don't you?

-That's right.

-A Wet League.

-It was called...

-The State Management Scheme League was called the Wet League.

-Right.

The State Management Scheme was the only greens

where you were able to get a drink.

And playing today are some ex-Wet League gents

who were bowled over by the beer.

And what did you make of the State Management Scheme?

Was it a good thing?

Well, it was the best scheme that was ever invented, actually.

Lasted some 57 years - it was great beer,

it was reasonable prices, compared to today especially,

and it was fabulous for all that was concerned.

-It was very, very competitive.

-Right.

And as they say, on the green, the friendship went out the window

and the will to win took over.

I'm here, David. I've got my shoes, I've got my woods.

Can I join in, do you think, with these gents?

-Yeah, let's have a try.

-Right.

I think I could get used to this.

The wind in my hair, the kiss of white pump on manicured green,

a jar of State Management's finest ale to steady the aim.

Oh, look at that.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Turn it round. Look at that.

Ho-ho!

Go on, David. Your go.

We'll see how it's done now.

This is getting quite tense, actually.

Oh!

DAVE CHUCKLES

Whoa!

-I'll give you that one.

-Yeah. One out of the archives.

That's the one you want on the telly, isn't it?

-Yeah, yeah.

-Smashing.

Sadly, the Carlisle State Management greens have all gone.

But the pubs are still packed with competitive pastimes.

And competitive punters.

Time to meet some locals who love their local.

Meet Brian, Alan and Paddy,

regulars at The Sportsman Inn in Carlisle city centre.

It's only a small pub, but it's a really nice pub.

-And also, it's the centre of the town, isn't it?

-Yeah, yeah.

So we can all coming from different parts of the city and meet up.

The Sportsman, a former state-run pub,

was one of the first to serve bar meals in the city.

And it continues to serve up extras with its beer,

like the Monday quiz night.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to The Sportsman quiz.

And the local quiz kings, The Sportsman Bandits,

aren't here just for the beer.

-I don't think we'd meet up just to have drinks.

-Oh, no, no.

I mean, them days have gone.

It's a good sideshow for us to meet up and take part.

Luckily enough, we are quite good at it.

The pub quiz has been around since the '70s.

Now over a third of Britain's 60,000 boozers

have a weekly competition.

And The Bandits have taken it to the next level.

There's a national quiz,

and The Sportsman Bandits got to the quarterfinals, so...

And they've done that twice.

So...they're a really good team, obviously.

Question five...

Here, Dave, dude, that bloke's nicked your tash.

Impeccable taste, quizmaster!

Which veteran TV presenter

called his autobiography I Should Have Been at Work?

That's easy. Dave Myers.

Give over!

It's Des Lynam, you wazzock.

So the moment of truth.

Have The Bandits bagged the booty again?

-Now, we have a big upset of the night.

-Whey!

-In second place, we have The Sportsman Bandits.

-Hey!

Recount! Recount!

-So what do you think about that, then?

-Oh, I'm away.

LAUGHTER

Bad luck, Bandits. Losers this time.

But it's a win for landlords like Dave.

Pub quizzes are a great way of keeping bums on bar stools.

Customers are the lifeblood of pubs.

Without customers, you know,

that's why pubs shut, at the end of the day.

Right, well, good luck.

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

-THEY CHUCKLE

-Good night.

-Good night. And God bless.

Back on our Carlisle city centre pub crawl,

World War I is finally over.

While the government called time on other State Management Schemes,

Carlisle got an extended licence.

It was going so well

the government ordered a brand-new batch of pubs.

Our last stop is a pub that epitomised

a new, classy era of state-sponsored drinking.

This time it was all about the bricks and mortar.

Oh, look at this, The Cumberland Inn.

This is a nice pub, Dave.

Looks more like a gentleman's club than a pub.

Aye, that's just the point, Si.

This pub was built under the State Management Scheme,

and it was designed, shall we say, to appeal

to a more broader clientele.

Ah, you mean they were trying to push up our pubs. Ah-ha!

One man, Harry Redfern, was tasked

with redesigning the great British boozer.

Here to tell us about this talented chap

is local architect Malcolm Wilson.

-Malcolm.

-Hello.

-Very nice to meet you. How are you doing?

-And you.

-Hello, Malcolm. Nice to meet you.

-Oh, smashing.

-This is a splendid place, isn't it?

-Ooh!

-Whey!

-Two beers. Smashing.

-Hey, this has started well.

-Good health.

-Good health, mate. Good health.

-Yeah, good health.

So tell about Mr Harry Redfern.

Harry Redfern was a great guy.

He did all the...all the Model Inn pubs,

all 15 of them here in Carlisle.

Every one was different. Every one.

Particularly this one, The Cumberland,

which was unique in its time.

Demolished pubs, rebuilt new ones,

built new model pubs out in the countryside.

But each one was an absolute gem.

As chief architect for the State Management Scheme,

Redfern's aim wasn't just to build model pubs.

Oh, no, he wanted to encourage model punters too.

Redfern, when he did these pubs,

he managed to alter the plan of the pubs,

so they were much different layout to what they originally were.

Where the bar, as you can see, is now

in the middle of the pub, which looked into all areas.

So the manager of the pub and the people behind the bar

could keep track on everybody in the area.

-So kind of purpose-built.

-Purpose-built pubs.

And they self-monitored themselves.

So you could see everything that was going on in each room,

and each room was distinctively different.

A little smoking room, a mixed-class room,

a room for the women as well.

Now, that's quite expensive.

Well, this building was the most expensive one he ever built.

It was three times more expensive than any of the others

because of its location in the city centre, the materials he used.

You know, its beautiful roof light, fantastic bar,

the oak, the floor, the tiles.

Everything cost a tremendous amount of money.

So, where did Redfern get his inspiration from?

He got his inspiration from his background.

He was an Arts and Crafts architect.

So he did these wonderful sort of

Art and Crafts country houses down there.

And he felt that maybe the country house

was a nice sort of thing to bring up to the pub.

So you felt you were going to a country manor house for a drink

rather than just a shop or a really rough little place.

Did the state-managed pubs work to curb the excesses of drinking?

They did. Numbers dropped dramatically.

Because what happened is the pubs actually self-regulated themselves.

-Right.

-You came in here, and all your mates didn't really want you

to have a dodgy time because it was a good environment.

So the people who were here regulated their own behaviour,

which was terrific.

And because the women were here as well, they regulated the men.

So punters policed themselves.

Punters policed themselves, which is the best way to have it.

So what legacy did Harry Redfern leave us?

Well, he left us the 15 Model Inns, which are gems of the time.

I mean, they're all listed now. They're absolutely beautiful things.

And the pub became respectable. And because it became respectable,

it became a part of the village community, the town community,

which is as important as shops and the church, the village green.

And the village pub became central to the operation of a village again.

Most important. That was the legacy he left us.

-Well, that is absolutely...

-It's fascinating, isn't it?

I think, you know, at some stage in our life,

a Harry Redfern pub crawl is called for.

Well, Mr Myers...

I'll shake on that. Definitely. I think we should.

Well, there are 15 pubs, remember,

so that means a pint of beer in each pub.

-Oh, we can take it slow.

-A half.

-MALCOLM CHUCKLES

-Just a half.

-Yeah.

Never mind taking it slow, may as well start now.

Joining us for a sip down memory lane,

some local lads who remember the state-regulated beer.

Mm, state-brewed beer(!)

It doesn't sound promising, does it, Kingie?

We've got a memory lane here, gents, of memorabilia.

These are original Carlisle State Management Scheme tankards.

Get in.

Old beer mats.

So, gentlemen, do you remember the state-brewed beer

and what was it like?

It was beautiful.

My first pint in 1958 was nine pence.

-Right.

-In old money.

Was it quite a light beer?

Wasn't REALLY strong, you know, but it was strong enough.

Once you had two or three pints, you knew...

-You started to get your knees to wobble.

-Yeah, that's right.

In fact, the beer's popularity has inspired local brewers

to remake it, including Mark Johnson.

And he's brought along a barrel with its own pump.

What does it taste like?

Well, hopefully it tastes something like

a representation of the original beer.

The recipe itself, I've got copies of Bill Monk's old brew sheets,

-who was the head brewer at the State Management Brewery.

-Right.

And we pretty much copy that on a scaled-down version.

Well, why don't we try the beer, the new recipe,

in the old tankards as a bit of a homage to the new era?

-In this wonderful pub.

-Why not?

-Come on.

-Wouldn't it be great if you had a table like this at home?

-I have.

-I have.

-So have you.

-There you go.

-There you go, mate. What happened there?

-I don't know.

It's just a slight of the hand, dude, slight of hand.

-Enjoy.

-Cheers.

-Hey, that's nice.

-Nice colour, isn't it? Look at that.

-ALL:

-Cheers.

-Cheers, fellas.

Cheers to the Carlisle State Brewery Scheme.

And to your brewery.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

-Yum, yum!

-That is really good.

It's what you would call a proper session beer. It's not too strong.

-That's what it's designed for, yeah.

-It's got flavour.

-Oh, hey, that goes on.

-That is really good-flavoured beer.

That is good beer.

I've got to say, I think the government did a good job.

And whichever brewers they were employing,

-the brewers did a fine job as well.

-They did.

So I must say, Mr King, that's the first time I've ever

heard you utter those words, "The government's done a good job."

I know. I know. I don't say it very often, though, dude.

-The government.

-The government.

-Cheers.

-Well done.

-Cheers.

Well, it's been a blast.

Whoa!

Well, let's drink to that.

You know, I've learnt so much, I reckon we could give

those pub quiz kings, The Bandits, a run for their money.

-Cheers, lads.

-Cheers.

-Carlisle.

-Carlisle.

-Carlisle.

All right, Kingie, pub fact coming up.

Do you know the origins of that phrase to mind your Ps and Qs?

Er, no, I don't. No.

Well, rowdy customers like you, any trouble,

the barman would shout out, "Mind your pints and quarts!"

-Cos if you didn't, he'd take them off you.

-Well, I never.

-Cheers, mucker.

-Cheers.