urbansuburban

When I tell people about what used to be St Ebbe’s I am usually met with blank looks – even from people who have lived in the City for a while. Some people know where St Ebbe’s is but can’t understand why I am interested in the area. The old multi-storey car park (now demolished) is the key landmark everyone knows, along with the A420 which channels traffic past the ice rink and around the City centre. The car park is a piece of civic architecture most Oxonians loved to hate, though I have to admit that I always quite liked its well-thought out but functional design. As a use of City centre space the car park made no sense, but at it’s opening it was clearly the source of civic pride.

 

The post-1950’s St Ebbe’s was not designed for pedestrians; it’s a space that people usually hurry through, frustrated by pavements disappearing along Thames Street and the awkward placement of pedestrian crossings. Friars Wharf, an area to the south of Thames Street, is a 1960’s development of maisonettes around leafy courtyards  that borders the Thames. The spaces are attractive and friendly, yet it is hard to access on foot, bordered by fast roads and the river, creating a sense of isolation from the City. 

 

Not long ago there was another St Ebbe’s (also known as ‘The Friars’). It is when talking to an older generation of Oxonians that eyes light up at the mention of St Ebbe’s. But even the older generation is divided. I am discovering that for many, St Ebbe’s was an area that they would avoid, or they might just venture into a few shops at the fringes, whereas for others it is a place rich with stories and memories.

 

In 1945, Thomas Sharp wrote in ‘Oxford re-planned’ “The other Oxford, the Oxford of the slum districts is almost entirely unknown to the outside world, and is apt to be ignored and forgotten in many pleasanter quarters of the City itself. But in St Ebbe’s and in Jericho, St Clement’s and Botley Road there are between 3,000 and 4,000 houses that are actually slums or so outworn and badly blighted that they should be pulled down along with the slums.”

 

This comparison with Jericho creates an immediate picture of St Ebbe’s - characterful workers’ terraces, Georgian and Victorian housing, small shops and businesses, old Victorian industrial buildings – but even this doesn’t do justice to St Ebbe’s which is one of the key areas where the town (as opposed to gown) of Oxford began to emerge, growing up around the Franciscan and Dominican monasteries which were established outside the West Gate of the city in the 1200’s. St Ebbe’s evolved over a period of 800 years, expanding rapidly in the 1800’s as heavy industry developed in the area. Many medieval cottages and fragments of earlier times had survived as the area adapted and grew to reflect a changing city.

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St Ebbe’s was an interface between urban and rural with market gardens, a mill, abattoirs, tanneries, a fishing community and dairies. It supplied the City’s beer and bread, printed the City’s ideas and imaginings, connected Oxford with other cities via the river and more recently powered Oxford with gas. Though St Ebbe’s, like other parts of Oxford, had experienced change and turbulent times, the twentieth century community was relatively stable. In the 21st Century we don’t know what it is like to be as embedded in a community as the people of St Ebbe’s seemed to be. I have listened to many memories that reflect the sense of connection between neighbours and the security (and therefore freedom) for children as they grew up in this vibrant and close-knit community. “We didn’t have much, but we were very happy.” “The people of the Friars were a bit rough and tough, but we always looked out for each other.” “You always left your door unlocked in the day, even when you went out shopping.”

 

When the quote from Thomas Sharp was shared with a reminiscence group they were understandably indignant at the use of the word ‘slum’. This didn’t fit at all with their perception of St Ebbe’s. Conversations with people from St Ebbe’s suggest people were incredibly hard-working and took good care of their homes, despite poverty and basic sanitation. By the 20th century houses had cold running water and outside toilets, resolving the public health issues faced in the 1850’s.  People bathed in front of the fire in old tin baths with hot water from the ‘copper’. Janice and Diane Stewart described how their father had himself paid to bring electricity to their rented home after a narrowly avoided accident with a gas lamp when Diane was a baby. He had also asked the council for permission to install a proper bathroom in their house – a request that was turned down. Gillian Williams has memories of her mother scrubbing the doorstep and pavement in front of the house regularly. This was standard practice back then.

 

If St Ebbe’s was already slightly cut-off from the rest of Oxford, the label ‘slum’ and plans for demolition, proposed in the 1930’s may have made the situation worse. Similarly today the term ‘sink estate’ is used for housing on prime land that could conveniently be demolished and sold off. How does the label affect the on-going reputation of the estate as a place to live? Words like these become excuses for withdrawing maintenance and investment, triggering a downward spiral until eventually demolition seems inevitable and the label is proved correct.

 

Despite experiencing the neglect and isolation of an area set for demolition, the residents valued St Ebbe’s and many didn’t want to leave. For those who had spent their lives in St Ebbe’s, raising their families, building up livelihoods and businesses the suburbs were not the ideal place to be. Unfortunately decisions were made at a high level and the idea was imposed top down with the flattening of St Ebbe’s seen as a convenient solution to managing traffic and parking for the City. The  ‘slum’ quote from Thomas Sharp opens a chapter about creating parking for the city centre. The motive behind the demolition is not even disguised.

 

New housing was, nevertheless, much needed to resolve overcrowding, and many people were keen to have a new life at the edge of the City in a home with modern amenities. It seems that this opportunity was particularly welcomed by younger people and families who were living in cramped conditions in St Ebbe’s. The new estates were attractive with lots of green space and well-designed homes, so a good alternative was offered. 

 

With Jericho, St Clements and Botley included in the list of slums, it is easy to see how close we were to losing an even bigger swathe of housing and history in Oxford. Thankfully Councillor Olive Gibbs, who had grown up in neighbouring St Thomas, realised what a mistake it had been to place traffic concerns above the life of the City. Some parts of Jericho were demolished but plans to continue Oxford’s inner ring-road were ditched. Visions of the City as a finely-tuned machine that prioritized the car were questioned and eventually superceded by a model that aims to encourage pedestrians, public transport and cycles.

 

Usually a starting point for understanding a place is the space itself, the streets and houses, the shops and businesses, geographical features. In St Ebbe’s the footprint of the pre-60’s streets and houses has mostly been erased and replaced by new roads, two small housing developments, civic buildings and offices. There is little left in St Ebbe’s to tell its previous story and the residents were dispersed throughout Oxford, many of them losing touch with friends and neighbours in the process.

 

With the help of the team at the Museum of Oxford and word of mouth I have been put in touch with people who had lived or worked in St Ebbe’s, many of whom are now living in Oxford’s new suburbs; Blackbird Leys, Cutteslowe, Rose Hill.  It has been fascinating to listen to memories of St Ebbe’s and responses to the work of Oxford Archaeology on the site of the new Westgate Oxford development. 

 

This website brings together some of the memories, collections of photographs and objects which have been shared with me. These traces seem particularly important as there is so little physical evidence of the old St Ebbe’s in the urban space it occupied. But perhaps the memories and stories of life as it was lived in St Ebbe’s are  the most significant fragments. They offer a warm, intimate and human record of people’s lives in St Ebbe’s. It is possible that these may also suggest ways of thinking about this area and it’s relationship with the City as it enters another phase with the new Westgate Oxford development.

 

I hope to continue developing this project to enable a wide spectrum of people in Oxford to engage creatively with St Ebbe’s. I see this as a way of extending the way we imagine and think about this City.