Welcome to part two of our tour of the lost pubs of Sheffield from 1879, begun last week, taking in pubs going from Burton Road to Pye Bank.
Our next stop will be the Ebenezer Tavern at 42 Russell Street, just down from the White Hart.
This hostelry is cited as being opened in 1859 but in 1852 Henry Lee is registered at the address, running a beer house, and it seems a nearby Ebenezer Works and the pub may have been named after Ebenezer Elliot.
The Scotsman was born in 1781 but lived in the town and was known as the Corn Law Rhymer.
After his death in 1849 a statue was erected for him in Market Place in 1854 but because of a road-widening scheme he was removed to Western Park, where he still looks out today.
The changes he’s seen from there must make him turn in his grave.
On our visit to the Ebenezer the landlord is Charlie Hayes.
This pub would only last for another 26 years when its closure put an end to a much-loved little pub.
Further proof of our love of our heroic deeds of our soldiers in battle is the name of our next call and it’s the Inkerman Tavern on Alma Street, again one of many Sheffield pubs that reflect our military history.
Inkerman was a town in the Crimea not to far from Sebastopol.
On November 5, 1854 the English along with the French defeated a well-armed Russian force here, terrible losses were incurred on both sides.
In 1879 two businesses were registered at 22 Alma Street. One was either the brother or father of Samuel Eades, who ran the beer house, and the other business was a glass storeroom run by Henry Eades.
This little pub opened its doors in 1871 and by 1912 it had closed and its premises used for other activities.
From here we cross over Alma Street to the Alma at number 21. This was the Kelham Tavern as already mentioned but a name change was given after the Battle of Alma in 1854.
Our landlord today is Walter Allsop, a very large man, and he makes us all welcome with his cheery smile.
It’s a very pleasant pub on three storeys and built on a corner.
Did he take in travellers or lodgers, it looks big enough to do that? Sadly, it was given what I think is a nonsense name of the Fat Cat.
Just what this is all about I will never understand. It doesn’t relate to a person, a hero, a king, a queen etc, you get my drift.
I went in once and it was full of students sitting over half a bitter for three hours.
On leaving the Alma we double back on our route to the Engineers as it’s named by its clientele.
This Russell Street pub was selling beer in 1876. It’s classed as a beer house and when we nip in to relieve ourselves and have a top-up it’s Arthur Cragg who keeps his eye on things.
The pub’s proper name is the Engine Inn but I can’t say just when it was put up outside.
The engineering works and Little Mester workshops are everywhere around this area, so the customer base is pretty large.
In 1911 Samuel Danks was running the place and it was still classed as a beer house.
We leave the Engineers and make our way to the Union Inn on Cotton Mill Row.
Now, I have trouble as I can’t find any listings for this pub after 1833, when it was opened, and its licensee was James Ward.
I have an idea it was demolished sometime before 1879 as in that year the only businesses on Cotton Mill Row were Colver Brothers, Thomas Taylor, salt and pot mould dealer, and greengrocer William Booth Greengrocer, with no mention of the Union Inn.
I suspect this pub was named after the Union Workhouse that stood close by. I can’t comment on this pub, only that it seems to have had a short life.
After giving it a minute’s silence, we head for the Bridge Inn at 1 Bridgehouses.
The address is also given as 181 Nursery Street, open in 1818 with James Binns as the man in charge.
When we called it was getting a bit lively with customers but landlady Juliet Binge has her eye on things,
This pub stood near the old Iron Bridge and the bottom of Corporation Street and Nursery Street.
During a severe winter in 1843 the River Don froze over and the landlord had the presence of mind to organise sheep roasts and skating days.
He made quite a few sovereigns because of his foresight.
It’s shoulder to shoulder in here but it’s OK. It also boasts a billiard room for our pleasure, soon to be turned into a concert room.
After pushing our way out we three head for the Union, another one, its address is given as 12 Bridgehouses.
It was selling beer in 1818 and Joseph Hargreaves is the name over the door.
The name concerned the union of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.
I don’t know why but it had the nickname Hand in Hand or Old Shake Hands.
Again I can’t find the year it closed but I suspect it was for road widening.
From here we go to the Sportsman at 8 Bridgehouses, open for our pleasure in 1822 by John Mathewman. In 1879 Billy Wells is in charge.
This is another pub that I cannot find a closing year for but it’s got a loyal clientele.
We are now feeling a bit worse for wear but only three more pubs to go.
From here we cross Mowbray Street and enter the Brown Cow at number 1, serving the drinkers of Sheffield from before 1825 when John Haig was the man in charge.
Its address was then number 6 Bridgehouses with Brown Cow Yard at number 7.
Today our landlord is John Greenwood.
This pub is named as the Brown Cow in all my directories, it’s now the Riverside, another name change.
This pub had three large rooms and was known as a residential hotel as many pubs were in the town.
The servants’ quarters were situated below street level, it has 10 large cellars that reach well out below the River Don.
In its Brown Cow days it was said to have the biggest selection of Irish whiskey in the town.
It’s still serving the public which is good but it’s a real ale pub which isn’t my bag, I’m afraid.
After having a good drink of Wards best bitter we walk to the Hope and Anchor on Pye Bank.
In Douglas Lamb’s A Pub On Every Corner it’s listed as opening in 1833 but it’s in my 1825 directory and listed as the Hope and Anchor.
The address then was Bridgehouses and its landlord was Isaac Champion in 1825, so it’s a good bet that it was open in the early 1820s.
In 1879 the landlord is John Lindley.
Lots of people don’t realise that this pub’s name is a quotation directly from the Bible, it can be found in Hebrews 6:19; “Hope, we have as an Anchor of the soul”.
Many Victorian headstones used this elaborately carved with an anchor and a rope entwined around it.
For years I thought these headstones had some kind of seafaring connection.
This pub is strategically built on a corner and, judging by the number of rooms upstairs, it too also took in lodgers.
Time is now pressing as we have to visit our last pub before it rings time at midnight.
We stagger across Pye Bank to visit the Red Lion at number 8.
Another old pub, it was selling beer before 1822 and it held on until 1957 when it was demolished.
During its life it was also called the Ball Inn and the Blueball.
There’s a hell of a crush at the bar wanting a pint before the bell is rung.
Our landlord Henry Tingle is watching his pocket watch for midnight to arrive.
A relative of his, Cornelius Tingle, has a beerhouse at 2 Savile Street. On further research this turned out to be the Victoria Arches Tavern but it had a name change in 1914 to the Cricket Ball Inn because of the cricket ground that was nearby.
Whether it was bowled out or run out, it closed just four years later.
I digress, the Red Lion has had its time shouted and rung and any ale not drunk is taken away.
We’ve enjoyed every drop we’ve tasted and look forward to our next journey through our lost pubs.
n By the way, I give my apologies for a computer mix-up that led to me wrongly naming Burton Road as Burton Street.
Thanks to Brian Brodie of Ecclesfield and Donald (email@example.com) for pointing out the error, which has now been remedied on the map here.