As one of Britain’s largest ports in the 19th and
20th centuries it seems fitting that Liverpool’s most iconic
landmarks should stand alongside the Mersey River. The Three Graces reign over
the old docks, bestowing the city’s charm on passing vessels (ironic
considering Liverpool’s dismal reputation at the end of the last century). Towering
above her sisters is The Royal Liver Building, completed in 1911. A statement
of Edwardian confidence, it’s unfortunate that the two Liver birds perched atop
seem to be chained down, rather than about to take flight. To the south is my
favourite of the trio, the Port of Liverpool Building, a particularly graceful
example of Edwardian Baroque finished in 1907. Its central dome reminiscent
of St. Pauls Cathedral, the sugary structure threatens to vanish in the next ocean
breeze. Wedged unflatteringly between its older sisters is the Cunard Building,
opened in 1917. A pleasant if unremarkable edifice, it basks in the glory of
its more talented siblings, proving that even for buildings it’s all about the
company you keep. But tucked away behind the celebrated three is another
structure, the Fourth Grace.
The George’s Dock Ventilation And Central Control Station[1]
might not roll off the tongue, but this fascinating building entrances just as
much as its more celebrated neighbours. The Queensway Tunnel, constructed in
1934, was built to connect Birkenhead to the city of Liverpool underneath the
Mersey. Just over three kilometres in length, its engineers Sir Basil Mott[2]
(responsible for numerous innovations on the London Underground such as the
introduction of escalators) and J.A. Brodie quickly realised that a robust
ventilation system would need to be installed. Which is why in both Birkenhead
and Liverpool there loom several sombre ventilation towers, all dedicated to
ensuring that drivers travelling beneath the surface don’t suffocate whilst
down there.
But the George’s Dock Ventilation Tower is by far the most
attractive, exuding a severe art deco grace unlike its fellows. Designed by
local Scouse boy Herbert James Rowse, it taunts its aunts on the waterfront,
its angular boldness mocking the old-fashioned delicacy of The Three Graces,
like a rebellious teenager flicking off her stuffy aunts. And of course like
any self-respecting civic building of the interwar period it features
allegorical modernist sculpture. Speed –
The Modern Mercury, depicted as a driver with pilot glasses pushed up his
forehead, stands above the western façade, while to the south Night and Day rest in their respective niches, intimate and delicate. The two
sculptors, Edmund C. Thompson and George T. Capstick, both collaborated with Rowse to develop a theme centered on speed and
the future.
The Three Graces had better watch out, the younger
generation is only just behind them and not afraid to do things differently.
Make room for the Fourth Grace of Liverpool.
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