https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/may/07/council-homes-right-to-buy-new-properties

Wise words from a couple of years ago.

Let's hope we can build with Burnham!

#UKPolitics #Labour #AndyBurnham #Housing #CouncilHousing

The real story of the “Penny Tenement”: the thread about slum landlordism in 1950s Edinburgh

The story of the “Penny Tenement” is a (relatively) well known one; a slum tenement whose owner couldn’t give it a way to the City Corporation . Its very dramatic and well publicised collapse on November 21st 1959 seared it into the public consciousness, something that (just about) lingers on locally to this day. But its very nature also held the public gaze in a certain direction and meant much of the story got simply overlooked, its full details obscured. This thread is a valiant attempt at a fuller re-telling of the tale of the Penny Tenement; or Landlordism in 1950s Edinburgh.

The short, accepted version of the Penny Tenement story was that it was a condemned slum in the St. Leonard’s district of the city, so called because its owner tried (and failed) to sell it to an MP for that amount after the Edinburgh Corporation refused to take it off his hands. Everyone knew it might fall down – and then it did. Fortunately no one was badly hurt. And none of that is untrue, but there’s more to it than that. Much more. And while it happened over 65 years ago, it’s still remarkably pertinent to the city’s housing situation and the state of some of its old tenement housing stalk. So gather round, let’s start at the beginning shall we and see how the long version of the story unfolds?

Number Six Beaumont Place, to give it its proper name, was part of a row of basic tenements built in 1812 and 1813, adjoining an existing 1780s tenement at 200-202 Pleasance. It is the four storey plus attic tenement to its right in the 1927 photo below. Post-WW1 slum clearances saw some demolition and rebuilding in the worst of the Southside. The demolition order for 200-202 Pleasance came in 1931, and it was for that reason it was part of a photo recording project at that time.

The removal of this end block on Beaumont Place required those massive and dramatic wooden buttresses to shore up the party wall with no. 6 (no. 4 was the ground floor shop beneath the flats). So to be clear, in 1959 when the photograph was taken, these were old buttresses, which had been there 25 or more years. Ironically, this part of the building did not collapse! But they make a great photo and draw stark attention to the neglected condition in partially-cleared districts where progress had stalled and which had been left like this for decades.

Number Six (and adjoining numbers) was bought by a local man, Donald Rosie, in 1952 for all of £50 (c. £1,190 in 2024). He owned similarly decrepit tenements in Leith on Bangor Road and had some in Union Place at Greenside too. One of the first facts that has been missing in this story is that Donald Rose bought Beaumont Place knowing full well his purchase was condemned “as unfit for human habitation” – he was a slum tenement landlord and speculator. In 1935, the gable end of a tenement in adjacent Carnegie Street had dramatically collapsed, but nobody was hurt and it was simply demolished. But many neighbouring houses, including those on Beaumont Place, were condemned at this time. But that didn’t really mean much; they could still be bought and sold and let out to tenants. There was still money to be made out of this sort of housing; rents to collect and repairs to ignore if you didn’t let the ethics of it get in your way. The photo below of the Carnegie Street collapse is sometimes mistaken for that of the Penny Tenement, but it was 100 metres to the north of it and 14 years earlier.

The valuation rolls for number 6 show that in 1940 it had 23 flats and brought in £222 a year in rents. By 1953 that was £266 (c. £5,700 in 2024( or just a little over five times what Rosie paid for it. In December 1952, the same year he bought it, Donald Rosie publicly tried to sell the tenement to the Labour MP for Camlachie, William Reid, for a penny. He told the Courier & Advertiser that the condition of the sale was “[William Reid] will maintain the property, as I am expected to do, on the clear rents only, execute all repairs, meet all owner’s obligations and prove to the public that this can be done on the rents“. This was a stunt; Rosie said he wanted to show MPs how hard it was for landlords to repair and maintain tenements on the rental income alone, with fairly strict rent controls still in place after World War 2. Reid naturally refused. The fact here is that Rosie wouldn’t put any of his own money into the property. Indeed, he is on the record multiple times in both print and in Court saying that the problem was the rents, after taxes and costs, wouldn’t not pay for any repairs. It must not have occurred to him to improve his building at his own expense. The position of the landlords was that they should be allowed to increase rents first, to allow for repairs and maintenance to be improved (rather than the other way around, as was the Government position).

Because of this stunt, the Penny Tenement name stuck in the press. Rosie now tried to simply give it away to the Edinburgh Corporation (a Progressive, i.e. Tory administration). But they too declined; taking the liability of decrepit properties on for themselves and repairing them or rehousing residents to allow demolition wasn’t part of their rather gradual slum clearance plans. Perhaps Rosie had overplayed his hand somewhat now with the city authorities as as in June 1953 the City Prosecutor took him to the Burgh Court for failing to comply with a repair order from the City Engineer that had been issued in February that year. Rosie didn’t trouble himself to appear before the Magistrate. He sent his lawyer, who said it was estimated the repairs would cost £600 to complete. The City Engineer told the court “Nothing has been done so far as the roof work is concerned and the position has greatly deteriorated… Within the last day or two the ceiling in one of the houses fallen down and children have been injured to a minor extent“. Rosie’s lawyer said his client would pay “every penny of free rent” into the repairs and asked for a 3 month extension, which was granted.

Three months passed. Nothing happened. The Court summoned Rosie again for failing to comply. Again, he sent his lawyer along. The City Prosecutor said he “could not allow more latitude” and so a trial was set for October 2nd 1953. At the trial, Rosie tried but failed in a bid to call the Town Clerk, City Engineer and Housing Executive Officer as witnesses. The Magistrate Bailie Mrs K. Cameron found him guilty of “failing to comply with a Corporation order” but gave him another 3 months to make the repairs. those three more months passed. Nothing happened and Six Beaumont Place remained neither wind nor water right.

In January 1954, the Burgh Court once again summoned Donald Rosie to appear for non-compliance. He sent them a letter instead and so in his absence a trial date was set for January 29th. At this he claimed to have made £74 of repairs but the City Engineer had made an inspection and told the Court no work had been done since 1953, and that residents had made two further complaints about the building to him while he was there. Rosie was found guilty (again) of failing to comply with the repair order. The Magistrate handed down a fine this time – of £2! Yes, that’s not a typo. Two Pounds. The landlord got a £2 fine for failure to carry out £600 of essential repairs. You can see now how landlords could and did act as they did with relative impunity.

Two months later, on 19th April 1954, Donald Rosie was in front of the Magistrates yet again. This time he was charged with failing to make repairs at a tenement he owned at 76 Bangor Road in Leith. At this time we now come upon another overlooked fact. One month after this, in May 1954, Rosie formed The Bangor Tenement Co. Ltd. with a capital of only £100, himself and mother as directors and himself as company secretary. Into this company the ownership of his tenements were placed. By doing this, he was cutting off his personal financial liability towards them. This was a smart financial move as he could probably see the Corporation and Courts were now intent on pursuing and making an example of him.

One assumes Rosie finally made enough repairs to keep the City Engineer off his back for a while, but not for long. Two years later, in April 1956, the Dean of Guild Court ordered repair work to be carried out by the Bangor Tenement Co. after a petition by the Procurator Fiscal. But yet again, no repairs were made. At this time, Rosie claimed to have asked the Corporation to take 6 Beaumont Place off his hands or demolish it again. But if he did try this, again they didn’t want it.

It was around this time that Rosie now adopted a new tactic. He started “selling” flats at Beaumont Place to their residents. This was a clever scheme, it diluted Rosie’s ownership and liability and made the Corporation’s legal paperwork a lot more complicated. Instead of dealing with 1 owner, the Corporation were now dealing with a multitude of owners; it was top-level obfuscation. Except these “owners” weren’t really owners, even if they were entered as such on the Valuation Rolls – Donald Rosie kept the deeds. He admitted so much himself later in Court. Local councillor Pat Rogan, who we will meet further on in our story, described these “sales” as being conveyed on “scraps of paper” with transactions recorded in plain notebooks. This sort of scheme again was fairly common amongst slum landlords. The tenants stumped up a sizeable amount of their cash (from £14 to £100 was noted at Beaumont Place) and in return they got to lived in a slum rent free. But they owned it only at the discretion of their landlord and had no real security. Many tenants knew what was going on and entered willingly into such transactions; there was an attraction to the prospect of rent free living and there was hope that progress would come along soon and sort things out for them. Others also hoped – naively or cynically – that voluntarily living in a condemned slum would get them a council house sooner.

Over the following 2 years, Rosie managed to “sell” at least 14 of his condemned flats on Beaumont Place to their residents. But the City Engineer eventually lost patience with the repairs and had some of the basic essentials carried out themselves. In January 1958 they sued Rosie for £12 14/- to recoup the cost of these. No surprise, Rosie didn’t pay this and went before the Sheriff Court (the next step up the Scottish legal system from the Burgh Court). He contended that as the City had declined his free offer of Number Six and as they had refused him a “closure order” on it, they were obliged to acquire it off of him instead. He lost this case and the City got its £12 14/-.

Two more years passed, in which time Rosie managed to “sell” at least 14 of his condemned flats on Beaumont Place. The City Engineer lost patience with the repairs though and had some basics carried out themselves. In January 1958 they sued Rosie for £12 14/- for these. But the wheels of progress in the St. Leonard’s district by now were now (slowly) beginning to turn, interminably. In February the following year, 1959, the city issued Compulsory Purchase Orders (CPOs) for the worst of the housing around Beaumont Place. This extended to 391 flats with 538 different owners, superiors, occupiers and holders of heritable security (in Scottish property law, mortgage lenders) to deal with. The Landlords had helped conspire to make the ownership of property in the Slums incredibly complex and it was now slowing everything down. All this legal paperwork was just for a few streets, with scores more like them in the neighbourhood. As a result, it took a full 9 months to sort the mountain of paperwork out for the “Carnegie Street areas A & B“. It was not until the 19th November 1959 that the CPO finally crossed the desk of the Secretary of State for Scotland, Rt. Hon. John Scott Maclay MP, and was approved.

The Penny Tenement would now be purchased by the Corporation for a lot more than a penny and demolished, and it would no longer be Donald Rosie’s problem. But there was a catch; CPOs did not become operative until 30 days after signing. So he had better hope nothing happened in the next 30 days. The tenement had stood for 145 years, surely it could manage one more month?

It started to rain.

It rained a lot in fact. It was mid-November in Scotland after all. It rained all the next day, November 20th. In the evening, local Councillor Pat Rogan was called to Number Six by concerned residents. He was well known and popular locally; “one of us“, a son of the district. Although he was a Labour councillor and the Progressives held power, Rogan was not content to just sit in opposition made and made slum clearance his personal priority. He was energetic about his duties and did what he could to help people in his ward. He was on good terms and first names with Corporation officials and workers and was able to swing many favours to not circumvent the usual channels and get things sorted for people. “Pat” was also a builder by trade and by his account had become something of an “out of hours” housing service for his constituents. On occasions where he couldn’t rouse a member of the City Engineer’s department to deal with an issue, he had been known to go to his own yard to get materials to make emergency repairs. So there wasn’t anything that unusual in the residents of Six Beaumont Place summoning a city councillor to their tenement one evening to look over something with his builder’s eye and to see if he could get anything done.

At Number Six, Rogan took one look at the way the back wall of the tenement had stated to bulge and did not like what he saw. As it was late, he advised its occupants to sleep as close to the centre of the building as they could that night and that he would arrange for the City Engineer to make a visit first thing the following morning. Rogan went home to bed, but at 4AM the following morning received a call from the Parish priest to say the back wall of the Penny Tenement had just collapsed…

It was around 3AM when John Kernachan, 27, was awoken by his wife’s screams to find himself watching the back wall of his flat disappearing before his eyes. As he got out of bed, the floor beneath him gave way too. He managed to grab on to something, anything, and pull himself up and out to safety with his wife and young child. The Brocks family, on the third floor, were not quite so lucky. Five year old Catherine fell through the floor and landed in the flat of William Cranston below her. He was able to bundle her up and out the door before his floor too disappeared down with the rest. Catherine’s little sister, two year old Margaret, fell clean out of the flat and onto the pile of rubble forming in the back green below. Her mother, Betty, jumped after her and pulled her to safety before more came crashing down. The pair were bashed, cut and bruised, but miraculously otherwise unhurt and the only casualties.

When the dawn broke it was clear quite what a catastrophe had been narrowly averted. Where once there had been a scrap of back green there was now a pile of four storeys of back wall, floors, windows, furniture and assorted possessions. There were 20 occupied flats (out of 23) at Six Beaumont Place and yet nobody had been seriously injured.

All the adjacent flats on that side of Beaumont Place were evacuated on the spot; residents were advised to go to friends or relations, or offered emergency accommodation in the City homeless centre in the former City Poorhouse at Greenbank. A police guard was put on the street to keep spectators at a safe distance. The City Engineer’s men moved in to clear the worst of the rubble and shore up the back wall with scaffolding. The Housing Committee and Lord Provost came on an inspection, with the City Engineer pointing out the huge crack in the end gable of Dalrymple Place facing the disaster site.

That crack was inspected closer. On November 27th, 22 families at the end of Dalrymple Place were given 2 hours to pack up and leave. Within days, 100 flats had been condemned in the surroundings streets and 250 people made homeless.

This was a huge headache for the city, but what is remarkable is that the day after the collapse of the Penny Tenement, 18 of the 20 families who had lived there found themselves in new council houses in Niddrie & Craigmillar, with the other 2 declining and making their own arrangements. A huge operation had swung into effect for the other displaced people. Vacant council properties were turned around in a fraction of the usual time.; the Housing Department’s key cabinet at City Chambers was literally emptied. “Let us have every key you can lay your hands on“, the City Architect’s department was told and new properties approaching completion were rushed to finish and made ready for occupation. The gas, water and electric board employees worked round the clock to make the necessary services connections. The Civil Defence sent a mobile HQ to St. Leonards to coordinate operations, communicating with the City Chambers by shortwave radio. The Women’s Voluntary Service sent their Meals on Wheels mobile too, to provide workers and residents tea, soup and sandwiches. The Cleansing Department provided lorries to move people’s possessions to their new houses. By 30th November, all 250 residents in the district who had been evacuated in the preceding 9 days were now in council homes where they wanted them, with 80% of them being kept in their preference of the south of the city.

On December 1st, the Housing Committee went on another walkabout tour of the slums. They got short shrift: “Why don’t you drop a bomb on this place?” yelled one resident in Leith’s Kirkgate at them. “Come inside instead of walking about” another demanded from her window in Arthur Street in Dumbiedykes. At the “Grand Committee on Scottish Affairs” at Westminster, Edinburgh Central Labour MP Tom Oswald asked if the Secretary of State would intervene to help speed up Compulsory Purchase Orders and provide compensation to the evicted. He declined on both points. At the City Chambers, Labour passed a motion to try speed up city centre rehousing and slum clearance. The Progressive majority on the Housing Committee defeated it 8-4. Pat Rogan condemned the “procrastination” and stated certain houses were “crumbling and insanitary prisons“. He later gave an extreme example; when they were evacuating the tenements around Beaumont place, in neighbouring Dalrymple Place they found a windowless basement flat with no bed, only a mattresses on a stone floor. Living here they found two young women caring for two babies. Both were working as prostitutes, in shifts, with one out on the streets while the other was in the cellar with the babies.

On the 4th of December, the Edinburgh Corporation served demolition orders at 4 to 8 Beaumont Place. The principal owner was Donald Rosie’s “Bangor Tenement Co.”, but thanks to his “sales”, there were now were 14 other quasi-owners in total. To his credit, Rosie fessed up at the Dean of Guild Court that the others weren’t actually legal owners (despite them already telling the Clerk of Court that they thought they were!). He alone held the title deeds and he alone should be appearing. The owners were given 2 weeks to start demolition, and 6 weeks to complete it – at their own expense. The Compulsory Purchase Order would not come into action for 17 more days, until then they were still liable.

It was as if the slums themselves were now trying to keep up the momentum that had finally driven the city authorities to action. On December 16th the same day (and in a scene oddly reminiscent of recent happenings in Edinburgh) 21 families were given hours to evacuate from 2 tenements in Greenside Row when cracks appeared in the building and the road was closed off by the police…

They needn’t have bothered; the tide had now thoroughly turned in Edinburgh against the slums and their landlords. The Scotsman’s editorial drew parallels to the “Fall of Heave Awa Land” back in 1861 and wondered aloud as to how this was happening in the “age of Dounreay and Chapelcross“. The wheels of civic machinery had been set in motion. On December 19th 1959, the Dean of Guild Court petitioned the owners at Beaumont and Dalrymple Place and also Bangor Road in Leith (where Rosie was an owner) for repairs that had not been made. Ten days later, more demolition orders were served for demolition around Beaumont Place where owners were refusing to make properties. A week later, January 6th 1960, Donald Rosie – true to form – appealed to the Court of Session against demolition orders served on him.

He wanted a delay of one month; this would allow the Compulsory Purchase Order on his properties to come into force before anything had to be demolished – he feared that once the bricks and mortar of his “assets” were gone, he’d have no bargaining position regards the price. Dragging his heels in the courts was the only thing he could do here. The Court have him 2 weeks instead. This seems to have sped things up and the CPO went through; the city bought up the slums of Dalrymple Place, Carnegie Street and Beaumont Place and demolished the lot. The owners didn’t get what they wanted, but they got shot of their demolition liability. A year later, the Evening News printed a stark photo (below) of these streets; Beaumont Place is in the foreground, the roadway of Dalrymple Place runs into the distance on the left. In the distance beyond the fence is Carnegie Street and further beyond that on the left is the Deaconess Hospital. On the right we can see numbert 1-23 St. Leonard’s Hill.

The end was nigh for most of St. Leonards and Dumbiedykes. In 1962, tenants were warned not to clean their windows in case the frames fell out of the walls onto the street. One woman narrowly avoided being killed by falling masonry as she stepped into a corner shop. Housewives reported hoarding boxes in case they had to flit in an emergency. Roofs leaked, walls gaped. “HERIOT MOUNT TENANTS ARE AFRAID HOMES MAY COLLAPSE” said the headline. But by now, Pat Rogan found himself chair of the Housing Committee due to local political deadlock and it being a difficult job nobody really wanted. He set about this immense responsibility with his usual single-minded determination and practical approach. His policy was simple (simplistic, even); demolish thoroughly, build quickly. Construction land for council housing was freed up quickly by prioritising the replacement of the low-density, postwar prefabricated bungalows and a crash-building programme of tower block construction was initiated. By 1964, 1,500 houses had been demolished in the St. Leonards and Dumbiedykes area after it was designated a Comprehensive Development Area.

On the site of the Penny Tenement, an award-winning new development by Ross-Smith & Jamieson of 63 houses for 200 people was erected from 1964-67 called Carnegie Court (after Carnegie Street). The rest of Beaumont Place wasn’t redeveloped until 1989. At this point, the District Council decided that the street name had been spelled wrong since 1815 and should actually be Bowmont after an ancient landowner here, Robert Ker, Duke of Roxburghe and Marquesses of Bowmont. And so they changed it.

You may well have got to the end of this thread and yet are still thinking “just where on earth actually was the Penny Tenement?” Well, this composite overlay image might just help answer that:

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Steel Suburb: the thread about Lochend’s controvertial Steel Houses

There’s a quiet and well-kept little corner of the Lochend Housing Scheme that is a bit different from the rest. Its houses look distinctly municipal (although they were never “council”), but they are at a lower density than other parts of the scheme; there are bungalows and there are no tenements. You wouldn’t know it to look at it, but underneath the modern external insulation and pebbledash, all of these houses are steel houses. Lets find out how these houses came to be and what sort of houses they are.

In February 1926 the Scottish National Housing Company Ltd. (SNHC) formed a new subsidiary to provide 2,000 steel houses for Scotland; the imaginatively named Second Scottish National Housing Company (Housing Trust) Ltd., (SSNHCHT). The objective of this was to quickly build new housing in areas that needed it, without either making demands on the skilled labour market or the material supply of the traditional building trade; bricks, stone, plaster and cement. By producing the houses out of prefabricated steel components, idle engineering workers could be employed; unskilled workers could quickly erect the houses on prepared sites and there would not be a significant drain on building materials. A further consideration was that there was a deep recession in the Scottish shipbuilding industry, which was projected to last for some years further. By extension, this impacted the wider engineering, steel and coal industries, and Scotland’s industrialists and a number of politicians saw steel houses as a stimulus for these sectors.

The SNHC had been set up in September 1914 to built housing on land owned by the Admiralty adjacent to the new Rosyth Dockyard. Its stated objective was “to carry on the business of housing, town-planning and garden city making” i.e. to develop the Rosyth Garden City for let to dockyard workers. It was arranged along the lines of a public utility company, with dividend limited to 5% and a board stuffed with the worthies of local government of Scotland, including the Lord Provosts of Glasgow and Edinburgh. During the war, they would go on to build some 1,872 houses at Rosyth.

The capital for the SSNHCHT steel house programme of the was provided by the government – 50% from the Public Works Loan Board and 50% from the Scottish Board of Health (at a rate of 5% interest, this scheme had to pay itself back!). Its time-scales were ambitious, with only 2 years were allowed to complete and there a £40 penalty for each house that failed to meet its scheduled delivery date. To keep labour demands down, only 10% of the workforce could be from the skilled trades, with penalties for exceeding this proportion. Houses were allocated to the main centres of population, including 750 for Glasgow, 350 for Edinburgh and 300 for Dundee. Five approved types were ordered; 1,000 Weir Houses (in 3 variants), 500 Atholl Houses and 500 Cowieson Houses. The SSNHCHT had to abide by local building regulations and have their proposals approved by the Dean of Guild Courts (the equivalent then of a planning committee). Rents were set to local equivalents and factoring was handled by local agents – in Edinburgh this was Gumley & Davidson. All of the steel houses had coal fires as the only source of heating and hot water and were lit by gas; electricity was ruled out as an economy.

Steel houses were not without controversy – indeed the government’s initial offer had been a £40 per house subsidy to local authorities that ordered and constructed their own such houses; none had taken it up, which was why they turned to the SNHC. The prime minister, Stanley Baldwin, had to intervene due to the controversy and made the provision of steel houses something of a campaign promise. Mrs Baldwin offered to personally live in one for a month to demonstrate how satisfactory they were.

The socialist movement faced the question of whether to resist them on account of their perceived lack of quality and the labour practices involved in their manufacture versus accepting them as a cheap way to quickly provide modern new houses for slum clearance. This caused a substantial rift at the time; John Wheatley MP (who as Minister of Health had been behind the “Homes for Heroes” council houses of the 1919 programme) spoke unfavourably of them: “the people [do] not want steel houses. [I have] yet to learn that a single one of the thousands who had bought their own houses had ordered a steel house“. The building trades were unhappy that workers employed in fabrication at the factories undercut their rates and that only 10% of the labour could come from their members. Mr Hicks of the Building Trades Union condemned them as “shoddy and insanitary“. His union was in turn accused of protectionism and of trying to prevent underemployed engineering workers and casual labourers from getting steady work on fabricating the houses.

There was also official prejudice against steel houses within Edinburgh; Baillie Mancor of the Town Council said the council wanted “real houses” and not steel houses; Councillor Mrs Eltringham Miller said that these houses were “a gift, and they were not looking forward to what they would cost after they had them.” Councillor Hardie went further and said that these were “shoddy building substitutes” and that the state was adopting a “Mussolini attitude” in forcing steel houses upon local authorities. Nevertheless, the Housing and Planning Committee approved sites in Edinburgh for the scheme on land they had already laid out for municipal housing. 250 were to go to Lochend, where 23 acres were transferred to the SSNHCHT and 100 to the Wardie district; additional land was reserved at Saughton as the Corporation desired 500 steel houses in total and was keen to encourage the SSNHCHT in any way it could.

Work progressed quickly; in July 1926 it was reported that “satisfactory progress” was being made and that the new houses were proving popular with applicants. By August, groundworks were complete and houses were beginning to rise from the ground; many more applications for let were being received every day. Rents were set at £22 per annum for cottage flats, £28/10 for the bungalows and £34 for semi detached houses. In November 1926, The Scotsman reported that the Lochend steel houses were nearing completion, with “quite a batch of Weir houses ready now, and men at work on the gardens, shovelling a rich, dark soil, which augurs well for the gardens of the future.” The paper observed that the houses were “more than empty: they have never been inhabited” and that it was with the “coming of the people and the gardens that they will acquire a personality.”

Lochend was allocated all 5 available types under the scheme, laid out in typical garden city style, the streets taking the name “Findlay” from John R. Findlay, Bt., chairman of the SSNHCHT (the steel houses at Wardie were given the streetnames “Fraser” from Provost Fraser of Dunfermline, who was on the board of directors).

Atholl Cottage Flat

These houses were produced by the Atholl Steel House Company and named after one of its founding partners, the Duke of Atholl, who had envisaged building a steel house in 1919 after touring the idle shipyards of the Clyde. He partnered with the industrialist William Beardmore, whose shipyard and locomotive works were desperate for work, with his steel foundry at Mossend in Lanarkshire ready to provide the plates. Also known as “4 in a block” houses, this style was very popular with the 1920s public housing schemes, offering a good balance between reducing building and population density, construction costs and giving each household its own entry door and garden.

Atholl’s original house was to be a lodge for his own estate, and as such was designed and built to be permanent. The construction of the Atholl House was therefore more substantial than its competitors, requiring 3 to 4 times as much steel. These heavyweight steel walls were load bearing, providing rigidity to the steel framework to which they were attached and therefore no internal cross-bracing was required. The steel was coated on its inner face with granulated cork to prevent condensation and then lined with composite boards, which were painted or wallpapered, eliminating the need for plasterers. Atholl estimated the lifespan of his house to be 60 to 90 years, with that of the Weir and Cowieson being 40 years.

The Weir Houses were produced by G. & J. Weir, engineers to the shipbuilding industry at the Holm Foundry in Cathcart in Glasgow. Weir’s chairman, Viscount Weir, had a particular interest in the idea of prefabricated houses and they would be something the company returned to on numerous occasions. Those of the 1926 scheme were of three distinct types, but all used the same basic structure, of a load bearing timber frame and floors to which a relatively thin skin of steel plates was attached as an external cladding. Their lighter construction and lower labour costs than other steel houses meant that they were the cheapest, and Weirs therefore got 50% of the total order for the scheme. A feature of all Weir houses was exposed internal copper plumbing; it could not easily be buried within the walls or their thin insulation layer, and Lord Weir felt it was better to make it accessible for repairs, so was simply clipped along the inner partitions. The Weir Paragon House of 1944 inherited this design feature.

In 1925, Weirs built a demonstration steel bungalow in Grosvenor Square in just 10 days:

The Weir Houses were the most controversial of the steel houses as Weirs paid their workers at the rates of the engineering trades from which they were drawn, which were lower than those of the building trades. Weirs were accused of building “steel houses of a very inferior kind by paying low wages under sweated conditions“. In an editorial, The Scotsman called them “a pig in a poke” (an unknown entity) but that people would want to live in them anyway and prevailed upon Weirs to improve their wages. Atholl avoided this scandal by paying building trades rates to their prefabrication workers in the factories.

Weir Eastwood Bungalow

The correspondent from The Scotsman who was sent to review the house noted that “the Living room is a good size, and the kitchenette or scullery is larger than that of many a modern brick house. The two bedrooms are a sensible shape“. The Eastwood, like its siblings, featured lots of built-in storage cupboards and a built-in coal bunker in the kitchen. The price, excluding groundworks, was set at £365 per house.

Weir Douglas Semi-Detached House

The Douglas was the largest of the Weir Houses and was a semi-detached, two-storey cottage house. The ground floor contained a sitting room with “handsome fireplace”, kitchen, larder, bathroom and – something of a novelty for the time – a large under-stairs cupboard. Upstairs were the three bedrooms, with the master bedroom running the full width of the house and having an unusually wide casement window to the front. This was the only house of the programme that had 3 bedrooms; all the other having 2. The price, excluding groundworks, was £390 per house.

Weir Blanefield Cottage Flat

This was the cottage flat in the in the Weir range. It was basically a 2-storeyed version of the Eastwood Bungalow with the upper flats accessed by internal staircases accessed from the side. The upstairs kitchens had floors strengthened with timber laid on a damp-proof layer to protect the steel beneath from “the vigorous scrubbings” of the housewife. The price, excluding ground works, was set at £357 per house.

Cowieson Terraced House

F. D. Cowieson had trained as an architect, but found success in prefabricated wood and iron buildings, with the company based in St. Rollox in Glasgow. Initially these were simple agricultural structures such as barns and sheds, but soon the company was offering halls and huts, pavilions and even cinemas. During WW1 the company turned to building bus and lorry bodies – particularly ambulances – and they would later become much better known for this side of the business. They also experimented with “brieze block” houses, a single pair of which were trialled in Edinburgh at the Riversdale Demonstration Site.

The Cowieson Houses built in the programme were of a four-in-a-block terrace and like the Weir Houses, used a load bearing wooden structure to which a steel cladding was applied. The roof was originally asbestos tiles.

In July 1927, Lochend was proudly exhibited to King George V and Queen Mary, who made a royal visit on 11th of that month. Before proceeding to Lochend, the visitors stopped at the Corporation’s newest housing scheme at Prestonfield, where the King and Queen each planted a tree to inaugurate the development. They then headed to Lochend through the Holyrood Park, with 35,000 school children turned out to line the route. Further crowds greeted them at Lochend and they made a slow drive through the new neighbourhood, guided by Lord Provost Stevenson and two councillors.

Their majesties expressed pleasure at the fine layout of this garden city and were greatly interested in the many types of construction in evidence as well as the openness of the place and tasteful arrangement of the gardens.

A halt was made at 49 Findlay Gardens, a Weir bungalow, where an inspection was made of the house occupied by the Hill family and their two young children. Mr Hill’s occupation was given as the manager of an egg merchant, T. Howden & Co., in Leith, which gives an idea of the sort of persons who were living in the houses. The residents were asked if the house had been cold in winter; yes it had been, but it was not now (it was July!). The next house to be inspected was the Atholl House of Mrs Wilson at 7 Findlay Medway, where they remarked on the sensible layout of the interior and were intrigued by a bed settee in the living room, the Queen sat on it and plumped up the cushions.

The householders were apparently not informed in advance that they were about to receive their guests and the first thing they knew was the knock on the door from the police. One of the housewives was reputedly peeling potatoes when they arrived and said of the Queen: “She’s a verra hamely lady” and that “Ye hav’na much crack for folk o’ that kind, and ye’re a bit tongue-tacket, but she was that kind and natural, and said everything was very nice“.

On leaving the steel houses, the royal party then proceeded to some of the Airey Duo-slab houses; Mr & Mrs Galloway at 58 Lochend Avenue and Mrs Dickson at 34 Lochend Drive.

In the end, an additional 500 steel houses were erected by the SSNHCHT above and beyond its original target, taking the total to 2,252. All were completed by the end of 1928 and the stock, along with those at Lochend, was passed to the ownership and management of the Scottish Special Housing Agency in 1963 when it took over the assets of the Scottish National Housing companies. Although they were only given a 40-60 year lifespan by their builders, most were first refurbished between 1978 and 1983 and in 3 years time they will have their centenary. Nearly all are still standing and most have been substantially upgraded with external insulation and rendering, double glazing, central heating, new roofs etc. A handful remain in an earlier state, usually those that had been bought very early under “right to buy” legislation. The tenants of those that were not bought early campaigned to have them upgraded rather than demolished, and most of those were subsequently bought (it was not possible to buy a defective house).

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How the dream of a suburban New Town went sour: the thread about Wester Hailes

Wester Hailes is a name often used (from outwith) to describe the whole area, but really it’s a set of discreet neighbourhoods, each with their own name with its own derivation. We covered Clovenstone in our last thread, so let’s look at some of the others in turn.

Wester Hailes

Let’s start with Wester Hailes itself. Hailes is a really ancient name, almost 1,000 years old, first recorded in the area in 1095 when Ethelred, son of Malcolm Canmore, gave land in this area called Halas to Dunfermline Abbey. It likely refers to land by, or between, river(s). The estate of Hailes was split into three main parts by the 15th century

Blaeu’s map of 1654 shows the East and West Hales between the two watercourses which may give the area its name; the Murray Burn to the north and the Water of Leith to the south. Fast forward to an Ordnance Survey 6 inch map of 1852 and we see a farm of Wester Hailes (where Clovenstone housing scheme is now centred), a quarry village at Hailes, just south of Kingsknowe – where Hailes Quarry Park now is, and Hailes House, which is still hiding there off the Lanark Road surrounded by streets of its name, if you look for it.

It was Wester Hailes Farm and Hailes Quarry (which had been reclaimed by backfilling with landfill) that the Corporation would purchase in the 1960s for its new housing scheme and from where the overall name was taken. The Wester Hailes Road though was first built and so-named over 30 years before in 1931, to connect Lanark and Calder Road.

Dumbryden

But it was the name of Dumbryden which was applied to the first part of the scheme to be built, in the northeast corner on a mix of land formerly occupied by quarry cottages and also the Wester Hailes Smallholdings. Dumbeg and Dumbryden are old Gaelic-derived names in this area. Dumbryden itself (or Dumbredin, Dumbraiden , Dumbrydon etc.) probably means the same thing as Dumbarton – township or fort of Britons. A farm of this name is recorded in 18th century maps. As such, it’s an ancient name and a remarkable survivor in the streets of a 20th century council scheme.

That building that you know and love as Lothian Buses’ Longstone Depot? It was actually built in 1949 as the administrative block for the Dumbryden Works of John Wight & Co., building contractors. The Corporation didn’t acquire it for conversion to a bus garage until 1954.

Murrayburn

Next along from Dumbryden is Murrayburn, built from 1969-72. It takes its name from the Murray Burn, the stream that once flowed through this area and which, ironically, was buried in a conduit to make way for the housing scheme!

You can catch sight of the Murray Burn at Sighthill, where it passes under the Union Canal below you, before entering its culvert under the district which it lends its name to. The name is a corruption of the Scots Muiryburn, a burn that drains a muir (moor). Confusingly, much like Wester Hailes Primary School was actually in Sighthill, so is Murrayburn Primary School! It was built there in 1938, 30 years before the neighbourhood that shares its name.

Hailesland

Immediately adjacent to Murrayburn and Dumbryden sits Hailesland, with the union canal running through its centre. It was a name coined by the council planners back in 1967 on an area of Wester Hailes Farm that had been known as the Dryburn Park.

The northern part of Hailesland is a mix of low and mid-rise properties, the part south of the Canal was built as high rise, using the Bison Wall Frame System. These were condemned as structurally unsafe in 1983 and demolition was recommended then. Six such blocks were built at Hailesland and they were never fully occupied. They became the centre of a 20 year local (and occasionally national) housing scandal that was not resolved until 1989. After years of wrangling, the eventual outcome saw three of the blocks refurbished (and clad in distinctive, corrugated, coloured exteriors) and have their structural defects remedied and the remaining three blocks sold to the Wester Hailes Housing Association for a token £1 and demolished.

In 1989, the value of these three blocks, standing empty at the time, was assessed. It was found to be negative £500,000; such were the costs faced in disposing or repairing them, the council would have to pay the housing association to take them of fits hands. All six blocks would likely have been demolished if it wasn’t for the fact they were so new (less than 17 years since final completion) that they hadn’t yet been paid off and the council still owed £1.5 million of debt taken on to finance their construction. Writing that off would have resulted in the sum having been added to city-wide council housing rents. 

Demolition started on June 11th 1990; three blocks consisting of 339 flats, were brought down to be replaced by 98 low-rise housing association properties. The plunger was pressed by Scottish Secretary Malcolm Rifkind and Tommy Smith, a saxophonist and jazz composer who grew up in the area

Westburn

The westernmost area of Wester Hailes is appropriately enough known as Westburn . The name for this area was historically Baberton Mains, after a farm, with the old Baberton Quarry at its centre. But the name Baberton had been taken by a private housing estate built on neighbouring Fernieflat Farm, so a new name was conjured up by the council for their project. Westburn refers of course to land to the west of the Murray Burn. Again it was a mix of low, mid and seven blocks comprising of 400 high-rise flats. These multis weren’t Bison System, but had actually been built to an even worse quality than those at Hailesland. Not long after completion, the external roughcasting started to fall off, and huge sections had to be pre-emptively removed as a safety concern, leaving the relatively new flats “piebald“; looking like they had been abandoned for decades.

£300,000 was spent on render repairs at Westburn in 1987, but the end was nigh for them. Its seven blocks came down in March 1993, when they were just over 20 years old, to be replaced by the Westburn Village of the Wester Hailes Housing Association.

The Drive, Park and Barn Park

The last neighbourhood of Wester Hailes is the bit you might get away with calling just that – although it was built in three distinct parts; Wester Hailes Drive (tower blocks), Wester Hailes Park and Barn Park.

These multis were demolished in 1994 to make way for low-rise housing. At the same time the opportunity was taken to create new, pastoral-sounding streetnames to recall the vanished farm; Harvesters Way, Winterburn Place, Ashcroft Lane etc. Another of the rehabilitated areas was renamed Dumbeg Park, bringing back into use another of the ancient Gaelic placenames (one meaning a little fort or settlement – dun beag) The various demolition and replacement schemes were remarkably successful, and won various awards at the time including “most improved street” in the country for the part of Wester Hailes Drive renamed Walkers Rigg. . This was in no part due to the community involvement in planning.

The more you read about Wester Hailes, the more you realise just how badly people were let down by the authorities. The shopping centre that had originally been planned as a high street in the centre of the scheme did not open until the last houses were being complete din 1973, more than five years after people started moving into the scheme. In the meantime it had been meant long walks or awkward bus rides to go shopping.

This “get people in first, worry about everything else later” approach also applied to education. It took nearly a decade for the promised secondary school for the area, Wester Hailes Education Centre (WHEC), to materialise, it did not open until 1977 by which time students were well settled into other schools and parents had to fight the authorities to keep them there.

In 1978 the area had a single GP “surgery” serving c. 20,000 people – in reality it was a few rooms in a converted tower block flat in Hailesland; the Health Secretary allowed it to be closed. Damp, condensation and mould as a result of design and construction flaws and poor workmanship was endemic from new. When residents protested at a meeting of the Housing Committee in the City Chambers in 1977 the Chairman, Councillor Cornelius Waugh (“Corny“), had officers eject them.

George Younger, Scottish Secretary, turned down demands for a public enquiry. Eventually in 1981 the Edinburgh District Council commissioned a report into construction problems in the scheme from Paisley College of Technology, known as the “MacData Report“, after the research unit which produced it. This was a technical report and went through the estate forensically examining construction and engineering standards. It found a litany of errors and clear evidence of shoddy workmanship and a lack of supervision. But locals felt it didn’t go far enough – it was authored by building surveyors and civil engineers and overlooked the people themselves. In response, the local tenants groups set up their own “People’s Survey” through the Wester Hailes Sentinel newspaper. The Sentinel’s surveys were sent to each of the 5,941 houses that comprised the entire scheme. 80% of the respondents complained of draughts; 54% complained of damp. Houses had cracks in floors, walls and ceilings, doors and windows jammed or were improperly sealed.

As a result, the wind and rain got in. Two thirds of respondents complained of the noise of the wind in their houses. Skimping on insulation to cut costs meant 3/4 struggled to keep houses heated in winter. Water vapour condensed on cold walls the walls and ran down it. The survey also found:

• 472 complaints of noise from up or downstairs neighbours due to inadequate soundproofing
• 412 complaints of noise from the common stairs and 342 of banging internal doors
• 466 cracks in floors or ceilings
• 307 leaks and plumbing defects

But what little was done didn’t touch the sides. You’ll find the same complaints in the newspapers in 1985 and 1986 and 1988 as you did in 1978. The application of fungicidal paint by Council workmen, the typical response to complaints, did nothing.

Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

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The rise and fall of high rise Edinburgh: the thread about multi-storey, public housing in the city

Between 1950 and 1973, Edinburgh built a total of seventy-eight municipal, multi-storey1 housing blocks which contained 6,128 flats (give or take a few) across 977 storeys.

I’m interested in writing a few stories about some of these buildings, their histories, how and why they got built and attitudes to them at the time but wasn’t sure were to start. As a starting point I’ve made an inventory of them all; so let’s have a look at all of them in chronological order.

1950-51 saw the first such building that meets the above criteria in Edinburgh, the 8 storey Westfield Court with 88 flats (and a childrens’ nursery on the roof!) It was constructed by local builders Hepburn Bros., better known for construction of interwar bungalows, with a steel and concrete frame clad in pre-fabricated concrete panels and an inner skin of traditional brick. Its design and facilities were heavily inspired by London’s Kensal House by Maxwell Fry. Although it was a starting point for the block that followed, it remains something of a one-off and is a rather unique, evolutionary dead-end in the city. I have written up its fuller story on this thread.

Hepburns built their second and last multistorey block for the city from 1953-56. It is the 7 storey, 42 flat block of Maidencraig Court at Blackhall. It was constructed at a time of acute national materials shortages, and compared to Westfield it had to have its ceilings lowered and room dimensions reduced, and as much steel as possible removed. This led to the first use of cross-wall construction in the city’s public housing. This method uses load-bearing internal wall panels of reinforced concrete and offers economies of time and materials compared to traditional load-bearing external walls or the sort of internal steel and concrete framework employed at Westfield.

After Westfield and Maidencraig there followed a series of experimental mid-height multi-storey blocks, which were variations on a basic theme, as a rather conservative local administration (headed by the Progressive Party) tentatively tried to work out what it wanted to do regards high-rise housing post-war. While there was a post-war housing emergency in the city, the authorities had purchased large volumes of temporary and permanent prefabricated housing (they were the most enthusiastic adopter of the former in Scotland) to meet immediate demands and the chairman of the Housing Committee, Councillor Matt A. Murray, was keen not to expand the city further on the outskirts but to focus on central redevelopments.

The 10 storey, 60 flat Inchkeith Court followed in 1956-57, located on Spey Terrace, just off of Leith Walk. Billed by the local press as “Edinburgh’s First Skyscraper“, it was built adjacent to a slum clearance zone on Spey Street, atop 139 piles on an old sandpit; an experiment in building on a confined site. The contractor was the Scottish Construction Company – ScotCon. The city specified a pitched roof be added to the design and also settled on each flat having its own hot water and heating supply under the control of (and paid for by) the tenant. The experiments in communal supplies at Westfield and Maidencraig had stung the Corporation with unexpectedly dramatic fuel bills as residents made the full use of the provision.

A month later the identical pair of Inchcolm Court and Inchgarvie Court completed in West Pilton. These were by English contractors George Wimpey and were also of 10 storeys and 60 flats each and also had almost apologetic pitched roofs. They differed in having an offset H-plan with a central access and service core and were of a different construction method. As at Westfield and Maidencraig, each flat had its own private balcony, although these were removed in later refurbishments.

The following year, 1958, a further pair of 10 storey, 60 flat blocks were completed; Moat House and Hutchison House at Moat Drive in the Slateford area of the city. These were by local contractors James Miller and Partners (a firm headed by the City’s former Lord Provost) and adopted another variation of a Y-plan. They are of reinforced concrete construction with this frame in-filled with brickwork and rendered over and have external balconies for most (but not all) flats. The pitched roof however was abandoned; it was an anachronistic design throwback that added unnecessary additional demands for materials and labour on buildings that were meant to be ultra-modern and simpler to construct.

The last of the 1950s experiments were the pair of Holyrood Court and Lochview Court at Dumbiedykes, which were also built by Millers. Construction was rather protracted and did not finally complete until August 1963. These are 11 storeys tall, with 95 flats arranged on an H-plan; regular flats in the side wings of the “H” but maisonettes and top-floor artists studios (with enlarged windows and heightened ceilings to improve natural daylight) in the central arm. Each block had communal laundries, reducing the size demands of flat kitchens and requirements for hot water provision, with the the ground floor containing lock-up garages. Construction is of reinforced concrete, faced in brick and rendered-over but with an unusual original feature (now lost behind re-cladding) of traditional sandstone masonry the whole height of the building in the staircase areas. The roofs are of an ultra-modern, inverted pitch and clad in green copper; to conceal the rooftop services and clothes drying spaces from the view of those gazing down from Salisbury Crags or up from Holyroodhouse Palace.

The 1960s saw a step-change in the volume of building, and also in scale. After the experiments of the 1950s, a lot of “bells and whistles” were trimmed off the specifications, use of traditional techniques abandoned and there was a move to taller blocks with industrialised construction in the name of building more and faster. After 1962, the city’s energetic housing commissioner, Labour’s Pat Rogan, adopted a policy of replacing the post-war, low-density, low-rise prefabricated housing estates around the city’s periphery with new high-rise, high-density schemes, again to built more and build faster.

Between 1960-61, two different pairs of blocks were built at Muirhouse by Wimpey, in a scheme called Muirhouse Phase II. The first were the 9 storey slab blocks of Gunnet Court and May Court, with 48 flats apiece of reinforced concrete cross-wall construction with brick and pebble-dashed, pre-cast concrete panel infill. These blocks squeezed the build price down to c. £2,000 / flat from £2,800 of Westfield and all the flats were maisonettes; accessed from open “streets in the sky” decks to the rear. Such a layout, where the flats are all two storeys with their own internal staircases, did create initial engineering headaches, but meant that there only needed to be half the number of public passageways, lifts only had two stop at half the number of floors and sleeping and living areas of adjacent houses can be better spaced apart to reduce noise complaints.

The other pair by Wimpey, at 15 storeys, were the city’s first real point blocks (i.e. buildings proportionally taller than they are wide or deep). These are Fidra Court and Birnies Court and have 56 flats each – however these proved to be 10% more expensive than the 9 storey slabs on account of the construction and engineering complexity of the extra height.

The last multi-storey part of Muirhouse Phase II was a pair of 11 storey slab blocks by ScotCon; Inchmickery Court and Oxcars Court, with 76 flats apiece. The central part of the slab has deck-access maisonettes, with wings on each side of regular flats A flaw in the design of these blocks has the concrete load-bearing frames exposed, which forms cold bridges into the core of the building and resulted in endemic damp problems which are only now, 60 years later, due to be finally resolved in a renovation project.

Lastly in the 1960-61 construction programme were the point block trio of Allermuir Court, Caerketton Court and Capelaw Court at Oxgangs, a site known as the Comiston Scheme at the time. Their names reflected some of the nearby Pentland Hills, the preceding blocks in Leith and Muirhouse having used the names of islands in the Firth of Forth. These 15 storey blocks had 80 flats apiece, 20 of which were maisonettes (on floors 2, 5, 8, 11 and 14), and were constructed by London-based John Laing & Co. I have seen them referred to as the Comiston Luxury Flats but I suspect this may be because in the newspaper columns where their Dean of Guild Court approval was reported, the announcement was alongside approval for “luxury flats” at Ravelston, under the headline of “Permit for £3m Housing; Edinburgh to Clear More Prefabs; Luxury Flats“. The laundry rooms were on the ground floor, and there were novel outside drying greens arranged in a spoked wheel pattern from a single, large, central pole. The flats were initially very popular, but suffered from long-term lack of maintenance and run-down of facilities and were demolished between 2005-06 as an alternative to refurbishment after a community campaign.

Another trio of point blocks were started in 1960 but did not complete until 1962 – Fala Court, Garvald Court and Soutra Court in the Gracemount Housing Scheme, a post-war, greenfield site development. These were named after hills and parishes in the Moorfoots; Garvald was originally to be Windlestraw, but the name was changed at the suggestion of housing chairman Pat Rogan who felt it was ambiguous in its pronunciation. These were constructed by the local firm Crudens and each had 14 storeys and 82 flats. They were not built with sufficient ties between the inner and outer wall skins and this had to be remedied at a cost of £100,000 in 1986. All three were demolished in 2009 as part of the wider redevelopment in area.

Last of the 1960 starts did not complete until 1963 and marked a step change in scale and construction methods – the infamous pair of Cairngorm House and Grampian Houses in the Leith Fort Comprehensive Development Area (CDA). These 21 storey, 76 flat towers were built by Millers and designed by Shaw Stewart, Baikie & Perry (John Baikie was principal architect, and was assisted by Michael Shaw Stewart and Frank Perry, all were working for the firm of Rowand Anderson, Kininmonth & Paul). The whole building was made up of interlocking, three storey repeating units, with single-storey flats in the middle surrounded by maisonettes above and below. One assumes that the names were a double reference both to their heights (they were the tallest residential structures in Scotland when completed) and how far you could see from the top. The core of each building was poured, reinforced concrete cross-walls and floors, clad in a system of prefabricated concrete panel units. These storey-high panels, of three standard widths, had external ribs to improve their strength but this contributed to their spartan, blocky appearance with almost no redeeming features beyond the labour savings their construction offered; it was estimated by Millers that the fifty men and external scaffolding that they had needed for each storey at Dumbiedykes had been replaced by four men and a crane to lift the prefabricated concrete panels into place. They came down in 1997, having been largely empty of residents since 1991 after a long period of neglect and decline, with the local press referring to them as Terror Towers and Withering Heights.

The next phase of the Leith Fort CDA scheme was Fort House – a 7-storey deck access block of 157 mainly maisonette flats on a rambling, wonky X-plan built by J. Smart & Co to a design also by Shaw Stewart, Baikie & Perry. This block sat on 162 large diameter piles, 3 feet wide and 30 feet deep and its odd plan was to make the maximum use of the available space as it was confined within the historic but oppressively high walls of the old Leith Fort. It was a reinforced concrete frame infilled with brown bricks degenerated into some of the city’s most infamous housing in the 1980s. Despite a renovation which saw pitched roofs, awkward looking rooftop pediments and additional insulation added, it was demolished in 2012-13 and replaced by low rise Colonies-style housing, with those prison walls greatly reduced in height.

1962-64 saw another tall pair of point blocks erected by Millers in Leith as part of a redevelopment scheme variously known as Citadel Area Phase 1 or Couper Street Area. These are the 20 storey, 76 flat John Russell Court and Thomas Fraser Court were designed by Robert Forbes Hutchison. Now known as Persevere Court and Citadel Court, respectively, John Russell was an antiquarian and author who wrote some of the first, comprehensive histories of Leith, and Thomas Fraser was his schoolmaster. Each block is comprised entirely of maisonette flats (except for four, top floor penthouses), with two separate wings joined by a service and access core, although neatly packaged to appear as a single, point block. Originally finished in concrete panels dashed with Norwegian quartz chips, 1980s makeovers had them insulated and clad in colourful blue and yellow corrugation at the same times as the names were changed and tenancies were restricted to those over the age of 35 and without children under the age of 16.

The multi-storey flat peaked, literally, in Edinburgh in 1965 when Martello Court in Pennywell, Muirhouse completed. This 23 storey, 88 flat point block remains the tallest residential structure in Edinburgh and has unusual with wrap-around external balconies all the way up to the top. These served a dual purpose; as the building had only a single staircase, they were to assist escape in the event of a fire, however were unpopular with residents who wanted them gated off. Built by local contractor W. Arnott Mcleod to designs by Rowand Anderson, Kininmonth & Paul, it was intended to showcase local skills in the field of housing but was ultimately over-budget and delayed; the final project cost approximated £3,571/ flat, almost 60% more than neighbouring multis that had completed just 4 years before. Corporation Housing Architect Harry Corner branded the building “a disaster“. This was the first high-rise block to dispense with communal laundries since they had been introduced, with each flat having laundry facilities in the kitchen, and each floor having an external drying area. In a superstitious move, there is no thirteenth floor, the floors being number 1 to 12 and then 12A to 23.

There was no such qualms about the number thirteen with another block in the Muirhouse area, Thirteen Muirhouse Way was never formally named (and confusingly was actually 11 to 21 Muirhouse Way!) This nine-storey, 44-flat slab block was part of the Muirhouse Temporary Housing Area Phase II scheme to replace the post-war prefabs to the south of Pennywell. It was very similar to the earlier Gunnet and May Courts nearby. This block was part of a scheme completed 1963-1965. In 1982 the residents set up a Tenant’s Steering Committee to lobby for improvements to deal with the windows, dampness, heating and insecure entry. The council did eventually draw up plans for a refurbishment but in 1987 branded it “one of the worst in the city” and instead used new borrowing powers to have the block demolished and replaced by a low-rise scheme of accessible housing. Demolition came in 1988, just shy of its twenty-third birthday.

Also completing in 1965 was a large scheme on a greenfield plot at Sighthill, known as the Sighthill Neighbourhood Centre. This scheme was initially mooted in 1957 and in 1962 a scheme for two 23 storey point blocks and an 8 storey slab was approved, but was challenged successfully by the Civil Aviation Administration over the proximity to the flightpath of Edinburgh Airport. This resulted in a change to three lower 17 storey, 95 flat blocks – Glenalmond Court, Hermiston Court and Weir Court – and an increase in height of the slab block to 11 storeys; the 98 flat Broomview House. Construction was by Crudens. The entire scheme was demolished between 2008 and 2011, and replaced by a new estate of low and mid rise housing, which includes streets named after Glenalmond, Weir and Broomview (but not Hermiston; probably to avoid confusion with other nearby areas of that name.) These names were taken from the Robert Louis Stevenson novel Weir of Hermiston.

Yet another completion in 1965 was the well known “Banana Flats” of Cables Wynd House in Leith; officially Central Leith Phase 1 or Cables Wynd Redevelopment Scheme. The architect in charge was Robert Forbes Hutchison and the contractor was J. Smart & Co. This vast, 10 storey slab block of 212 largely maisonette flats has a distinctive curving plan to accommodate pre-existing roads and tenements and was designed to house up to 800 residents. The building has a concrete frame – a ground floor of columns and crosswalls above that – with a cladding of pre-cast concrete exterior panels covered in quartz chips. To reduce the number of lifts and stairwells, entry to the houses is deck access along three internal “streets in the sky“, which give access to the flats on floors above and below also. Bedrooms are arranged so that none are adjacent to the deck, to reduce noise disturbance. It was Category A listed in 2017.

Cables Wynd was joined nearby in December 1966 by Linksview House, an 11-storey, 96-flat block by the same architect and contractor as the former. It sits at the northern end of the Kirkgate and was officially the Central Leith Phase 2 or Tolbooth Wynd Redevelopment Scheme. Although it is a regular, straight slab and is significantly smaller than its bendy neighbour, its construction and internal layout is fundamentally similar. It has reinforced concrete columns on the ground floor and crosswalls above that, similar precast cladding panels and again three access decks to maisonette flats.

Between 1965-66, at the Greendykes Temporary Housing Area, a pair of 15-storey, 86-flat point blocks was constructed by Crudens – Greendykes House and Wauchope House. These were part of Pat Rogan’s policy of quickly increasing completion of new housing by replacing the life-expired, low-density, low-rise estates of post-war prefab bungalows with mixed mid- and high-rise schemes. Population density in these areas was more than doubled, from 60 to 140 people per acre, meaning the sitting prefab tenants could re-homed and there were more new houses too. This facilitated the clearance of slum housing in the inner city – still a huge problem at the time.

February 1966 saw the completion of high-rise buildings in the north of the city, with Northview Court at West Pilton – again a prefab replacement build, officially Muirhouse Area 3. It was something of an afterthought, replacing a smaller block on the plans at a late stage. Its 16 storeys contain 61 flats and the contractor was Wimpey.

The Moredun Temporary Housing Area was next, where a row of four 16 storey blocks was constructed on the only thin strip of solid bedrock in an area othewise riddled by mining and subsidence. The contractor was Wimpey and the 91 flat blocks are called Castleview House, Marytree House, Little France House and Moredun House.

The next phase here was two identical blocks to the previous four, which also completed in 1967. These are Moncrieffe House and Foreteviot House and are further up the hill and in a more exposed position than the first four. As a result of this exposure, and the way the wind swirls around and between the blocks, they have long suffered with windows blowing in (and out).

In 1967, to the west of Greendykes, a 15-storey pair of towers was completed at the site of the Craigmillar prefabs; the 57 flat Craigmillar Court and Peffermill Court. They were built by Concrete (Scotland) Ltd. on the prefabricated Bison large wall panel system – as a result they were 10% cheaper than Wimpey at Moredun

Between 1964-67, a pair of 13 storey blocks was completed at Restalrig Gardens; Lochend House and Restalrig House. Constructed by Millers, these 76 flat, T-plan point blocks are reinforced concrete construction with brick infill and external harling. They replaced the old Georgian villa of Restalrig House, which had been requisitioned during WW2 to act as a headquarters for the National Fire Service. It was acquired by the city in 1945 to act as a hostel for homeless families but was damaged by a fire in 1956 and evacuated, being used as a store for surplus council equipment thereafter.

1965-67 proved to be a busy period, with 21 high-rise blocks completed in total, the fruits of Pat Rogan’s efforts as housing chairman. His successor – G. Adolf Theurer – was a Progressive (Liberal / Unionist / Conservative political grouping), but something of an ally and continued his basic policies.

In 1968, the Kirkgate Redevelopment Scheme was completed by the 64 flat Kirkgate House, built by the Token Construction Co. This had been intended to be a 25 storey crowning monument, but ended up being behind schedule, overbudget and only 18 storeys tall.

A 1968 outlier, in geographical terms, is the 11 storey, 41 flat Coillesdene House at Joppa by Wimpey. It sits within the red brick walls of the villa of the same name. Like Restalrig House, this had been requisitioned during WW2 by the National Fire Service and acquired and ultimately demolished afterwards by the Corporation for housing, with some of its undeveloped garden land having been used for temporary prefabs.

Just along the road from Joppa, on Portobello High Street, Portobello Court completed in 1968. This 8 storey, 60 flat, T-plan block is the centrepiece of a mixed-rise housing scheme which replace the old tramway depot. It was built by J. Best.

A further phase of temporary housing replacement completed at Sighthill in 1968, a scheme known as The Calders. This was another mixed height development by Crudens. The high rise element was three 13 storey, 136 flat slab blocks built on the Skarne large panel system. These are named after locations in West Linton parish; Cobbinshaw House, Medwin House and Dunsyre House (like the Sighthill Neighbourhood Centre, there may be a Robert Louis Stevenson connection here). The Ronan Point Disaster of May 1968 occurred while they were completing. This fatal partial collapse of a brand new large panel system tower block prompted an immediate national review of such structures, and an immediate halt was called on moving new tenants in to Cobbinshaw House and final construction paused on the other pair. Structural surveys and improvements were made, and the domestic gas supply was removed from Cobbinshaw and replaced with electric, with the other pair completing as all electric before they could be occupied. The buildings were renovated and re-clad in the early 1990s.

In 1968-69, two 15 storey, 85 flat blocks were completed at Hawkhill on the site of an old tallow melting works – Hawkhill Court and Nisbet Court. These used the no-fines poured concrete method – where there is no fine sand component in the aggregate, and therefore the end product is porous and has air pockets – to try and deal with the condensation and damp problems that plagued earlier concrete builds. The contractor was local firm J. Smart & Co. Nisbet is the name of an old local landowning family (Nisbet of Craigentinny), although not one that was ever specifically associated with Hawkhill.

The last pair of the blocks in the prefab replacement scheme, and the last residential point blocks built in Edinburgh were built between 1969-71 at Niddrie Marischal; the pleasant sounding Teviotbank House and Tweedsmuir House, names from the Scottish Borders. These were built by Hart Bros. and were 15 storey, 57 flat blocks using the Bison large panel system. As well as the last, they were some of the worst such houses Edinburgh ever built and they were devoid of residents by 1989 after only 18 years and were unceremoniously demolished in 1991. The blocks had the last laugh though and refused to collapse under controlled explosion, having to be carefully tipped over later by a giant hydraulic ram known as Big Willie.

While Niddrie Marischal was still on the drawing board, Edinburgh’s public housing focus shifted away from the old Comprehensive Development Areas and Temporary Housing Sites to a grand new edge-of-the-city scheme at Wester Hailes. This was meant to be a “New Town within the town” for up to 20,000 people. However, despite the best of intentions, the Corporation was caught between price inflation and forced cost cutting by central government. As a result, it was forced to increase the housing density – putting multi-storey blocks back in favour again – and cut costs to balance the books. The cost cutting meant that construction quality was lacking, landscaping was bleak and that many of the facilities and public amenities that a growing community required were absent.

The overall Wester Hailes scheme is comprised of multiple, distinct neighbourhoods, within which there were multiple development contracts. These included three big groups of multis, all of which suffered from bad design, bad engineering and bad workmanship. Group one, by Hart Bros, was at Hailesland, and was comprised of six 10 storey slab blocks using the Bison large panel system. These blocks contained between 67 and 107 flats and were finished in stark, pebbledashed concrete panels. They were also shoddily built, to the point of compromising their very structural integrity. In 1990, after a life of only 18 years and a long period of uncertainty and partial vacancy, three of the blocks were demolished. The remaining three were repaired and renovated as there were not funds to write off and demolish structures on which the construction debt had yet to be paid off; these were renamed Kilncroft, Midcairn and Drovers Bank and were given colourful, corrugated cladding and pitched roofs.

The two remaining high rise groups at Wester Hailes were all built by Crudens on a proprietary system using a concrete frame and floors, in-filled with brick cladding and covered in harling. They were so badly built the render was falling off in huge chunks from the get go, and much of it had to be pre-emptively chipped off. Its application had been so lacking in control that the thickness varied between half and two and a half inches, as a result these nearly new flats were left looking decrepit and piebald. The Westburn Gardens group got no names, just the ominous sounding Blocks 1-7. They were built between 1970-72 and comprised seven slab blocks of 9 storeys with 55 flats each, except the last which got 112. They came down in 1993, aged just 22 years old.

The other Crudens Group was on the same system at Wester Hailes Drive and Wester Hailes Park. They at least got street numbers instead of block numbers, but were just as badly built as Westburn. Constructed from 1971-73, they came down in 1994 at the tender age of 21.

The year 1972 was both therefore both the peak and the swansong of multi-storey housing in Edinburgh; 12 blocks were finished at Wester Hailes, pipping the 11 of 1967, and the final 5 completed the following year. Such was the fallout from the multitude of scandals at Wester Hailes (and wider elsewhere, both in the city and nationwide) and also the rapid and terminal reputational damage they suffered in the 1980s that Edinburgh has never again built residential multis.

Of the seventy seven blocks in this inventory, some forty four are still standing and thirty three have been demolished. Twenty of the latter were 22 years old or younger and the average age at demolition has been 30.3 years. The oldest block to be demolished was Fort House, aged 50, and the youngest were the Hailesland Bison Blocks, at only 18.

If you’d like to look at all these housing blocks on the map instead, just follow this link or click on the thumbnail below. This map is colour-coded by the number of storeys.

I have made much use of the reference of the Tower Block Archive of Prof. Miles Glendinning and team, including facts and photos, and I recommend this resource to you if you have an interest in the subject. I can also recommend his publications “Rebuilding Scotland, The Postwar Vision 1945-1975” and “The Home Builders. Mactaggart & Mickel and the Scottish Housebuilding Industry” by Miles Glendinning and Diane M. Watters, amongst others, for further reading.I am also much obliged to Miles for letting me read his interview notes with key movers and shakers in local authority housing in Edinburgh in the 1950s and 60s, which are full of invaluable details and insights.

Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

If you have found this site useful, informative or amusing then you can help contribute towards its running costs by supporting me on ko-fi. This includes my commitment to keeping it 100% advert and AI free for all time coming, and in helping to find further unusual stories to bring you by acquiring books and paying for research.
Or please do just share this post on social media or amongst friends and like-minded people, sites like this thrive on being shared.

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These threads © 2017-2026, Andy Arthur.

NO AI TRAINING: Any use of the contents of this website to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Thatcher stole public assets to use as bribes to buy votes.

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2025/aug/03/right-to-buy-england-fuelled-housing-crisis-cost-taxpayers-common-weath-report

#SocialPolicy #SocialHousing #CouncilHousing #RightToBuy

John Harris identifies the key issue.

It’s crunch time for Starmer and Reeves: either build social housing or lose the next election | John Harris | The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/jun/08/labour-housebuilding-plan-england

#UKPolitics #Housing #CouncilHousing #SocialHousing #Labour

“Absolutely Scandalous”: the thread about Wardie Playing Fields and the Lochinvar Camp

They aren’t in use any more, but on Granton and Netherby Roads in the north of Edinburgh there are impressive ornamental gates that lead to Wardie Playing Fields, where generations of local school children have loved or loathed playing cold and muddy games of football or rugby; have triumphed at their sports day or endured the dreaded “cross country” runs. The fields themselves are still in use, but there’s rather more their story than just 14 acres of windswept turf.

The story of these fields begins when nineteen and a half acres of feuing ground of the old Wardie estate were purchased in late 1920 by the Leith Education Authority for use as a recreation ground for its schools. Few if any of Leith’s urban schools had any playing or sports facilities of their own beyond confined, hard playgrounds and one of the last independent acts of this Authority was to purchase this ground, and that at Bangholm, for school use.

Within a year, the shotgun wedding that amalgamated Edinburgh with Leith saw the fields pass to the former Education Authority, which had a lucrative sideline in leasing it out as sheep grazing well into the 1940s. Edinburgh had also purchased at this time the rest of the undeveloped Wardie feuing grounds west of Granton Road for a public housing scheme (but that’s another story).

As it so often was, the city Corporation was slow to catch up with the population growth of its own housing schemes and the little old village school at Granton was soon at bursting point. But it was not until 10 years later, in September 1931, that a new “sunshine school” – constructed on open-air principles –was opened at Wardie for the district, taking up the southern portion of the playing fields in the process.

Our story so far has been an unremarkable one but all that was to change in 1943. That year the “stone frigate” (the Navy’s nickname for a shore base) of HMS Lochinvar – the Royal Navy’s principle school of minesweeping – found itself evicted from its base at Port Edgar along the coast and displaced to Granton Docks instead where there was already a shore training facility called HMS Claverhouse. Lochinvar had to move to make way for the pressing task of combined operations training in the run up to D-day, but it too had a vital role to play in that campaign; it trained the thousands of men to man the little ships that would keep the approach lanes and assault beaches free from sea mines.

There was plenty space in Granton Docks for the vessels of Lochinvar, but precious little for surface buildings. And that’s where the playing fields came in – an expanse of undeveloped ground just up the hill from the busy harbour and large wartime camp of Nissen Huts was quickly erected, providing everything from accommodation, catering and recreation facilities for personnel to offices, stores and workshops.

New minesweepers came up to Granton where they were allocated to a crew of largely green recruits who were then given an intensive but short period of training in the dangerous art of clearing the sea of mines and then after a few weeks they were then packed off to war. But Lochinvar wasn’t just a man’s world, there was a significant contingent of Wrens (WRNS – the Women’s Royal Naval Service) whose job it was to run the place and make sure everything from sweeps to guns were maintained in good order and would work first time, every time. In the below photo we see two Wrens in overalls – Beryl Lyster from Largs (left) and May Groosjohan of Glasow (right) – showing HRH Duchess of Kent – the WRNS Commandant of the inner workings of the Lewis and Browning Guns and Oerlikon Cannons that they are stripping and servicing for the minesweepers at Wardie. A rather pompous looking male officer looks on.

Lochinvar‘s spell at Wardie was relatively short and less than two years after it opened, at the end of the war, the complex found itself surplus to military requirements. The city’s Education Committee was raring to get the ground back, remove the huts and return the fields to school sports once more: but there was an outcry. You see it’s often forgotten that there was a critical housing crisis at the end of the war. There had been six long years of no new building and few repairs to existing stock, there was a flood of men (and women!) being demobbed and returning home and six years of pent up demand to settle down and start families. Edinburgh was no exception. Anything that could be lived in was being lived in, including properties condemned as slums pre-war. The city faced a homelessness and a squatting crisis and many families simply had nowhere to go. The Housing Committee turned its gaze to the surplus military camps to try and ease this immediate pressure. Its chairman, Councillor J. J. Robertson, said “there was no more pressing claim than the needs of the people for housing” under the headline “School Football or Housing?” in the Evening News on 18th Setpember 1945, just a month after the war’s end.

On 29th August 1946, fourteen homeless families in Edinburgh took matters into their own hands and made a night time “seizure” of the recently vacated Anti Aircraft Gunners’ camp at Craigentinny, which they took possession of as squatters. The group formalised themselves as the “Edinburgh Houseless Association” and began to take applications from other homeless families to join them. While the police investigated alleged vandalism due to stripping some huts of their interiors to improve those that were to be lived in, the residents got on with trying to better their lot and applied to the authorities to have the water and electricity supplies turned back on.

In November, the Corporation relented and the Housing Committee authorised the spending of £4,500 to put the camp in order and take over its administration – crucially, charging rents. They soon widened this action and a Prisoner of War and gunners’ camp at Craigentinny, the Cavalry Park camp in Duddingston and the Nissen Huts of HMS Lochinvar at Wardie were all taken over as housing labelled as both “emergency” and “temporary“. This was despite all of these sites all being totally inappropriate for family living – but there was nothing better and the post-war New Jerusalem would have to wait in the meantime.

Families at the optimistic renamed Lochinvar Camp at Wardie paid 12s a week for half a corrugated iron Nissen Hut, but life here was no holiday camp. Each hut had a thin internal partition dividing it up into two houses, with further thin partitions for bedrooms; this gave people only the idea of privacy. A small coal stove was provided to try and keep the place warm, but with no insulation the thin metal walls were always cold and ran constantly with condensation. You can see some photos of hut interiors here at the Edinphoto website of the late Peter Stubbs. Electricity was provided but only enough for basic lighting, residents found their wireless sets or any other electrical appliances being impounded by the Corporation’s electricians. Toilets and washing facilities were shared between six to nine families. Vermin were a constant problem and they, and the damp, ruined people’s furniture, clothing and posessions.

There was a wash house, but there were only three sinks per 50 families and no stoppers for the sinks. Cooking and cleaning facilities were communal too and centralised; mothers may have to walk hundreds of metres to and from them multiple times a day to feed their families. This would cause a heartbreaking tragedy barely a few months after opening. On October 21st 1946, Mrs Watson made one of her many daily trips to the kitchens and left 18 month old Ann and 3 year old John playing in the hut. This was not unusual and was a simple practicality of life. She was drying clothes on an airing horse by the stove which was somehow knocked over by the children and quickly caught fire. Almost everything within the hut was flammable, it had only a single door, the windows set too high for the children to reach and there was no running water. They were quickly trapped by the flames and there was nothing their mother or the neighbours could do. First the Police and then the Fire Brigade arrived, but all were beaten back by the red hot metal.

There was an outcry in the papers; the letter writers pointed the blame at the mother, the authorities, the fire brigade. The tragedy further stigmatised residents who already felt looked down upon by many. One hut dweller, Mrs Thompson, wrote in her defence to the Evening News on October 28th about the reality of life in the camp;

I am the mother of two young children and I have to go about 100 yards to cook, wash up, and clean in a communal kitchen. When I went to Castle Terrace and told them I was unable to do this, I was told the alternative was to find other accommodation.

The authorities were compelled to act and fire guards were provided for the stoves until gas and water could be laid to the huts to allow cooking and domestic tasks to be done in the home with children under supervision. The city Corporation formed a “special sub-committee to deal with the prevention of accidents in the home” and in recognition of the unsuitability of these sites for housing it cancelled plans to takeover similar camps at Muirhouse and Alnwickhill.

But although Edinburgh was one of the most enthusiastic local authorities when it came to building postwar prefab housing, it couldn’t keep up with demand for housing and the camp found itself in demand with a long waiting list. In July 1949 it was estimated that the temporary camps could be filled four times over, and one family had even taken up residence in the corridors of the city’s Social Services offices in Castle Terrace in protest. Many residents found themselves stuck in the “temporary” camps for far longer than they thought they would be – three years or more instead of six to nine months – and began to organise themselves. A Lochinvar tenants association had been set up in 1947, making an appeal in the classifieds for the donation of a typewriter to help with their secretarial burden. The Corporation set up nurseries to help watch the children while their mothers were busy or out working and social workers were sent in. Mrs Bell, one of the residents, organised sewing classes and Christmas parties for the 36 girls who called the camp home. But others had a more individualistic streak and prouder spirit and had a different response, a resident calling herself “Indignant Mother” wrote to the Evening News, outraged at the insult of being offered “public charity“.

Tensions were further stoked in the camp in 1948 when a group of German workers were installed in some huts. They were young women from the Allied Zones who had found themselves separated from families trapped in the Soviet Zone and had been brought to Edinburgh to work in mills at Musselburgh to help address a labour shortage. There were soon accusations that the Germans had gotten better huts with better heating; but this was not the case. They slept 10 or 12 to a room in dormitories and lived a regimented life of work, rations and few personal possessions. But despite the resentment, some reached out to the incomers; they found their new neighbours to be young and frightened, alone in a strange and foreign land where few spoke their language. There had little in the way of home comforts and many had no idea what had become of their parents in the Soviet Zone.

But one thing that all could agreed upon was that the camp was no fit place for housing. It was “a disgrace to the city of Edinburgh. The decent, hard-working people who have to live here surely deserve a better lot” wrote one resident to the papers in 1947. Another, calling themselves Grantonian said the site should be given instead to the newly formed National Coal Board for use as offices. In October 1949 there was a further fire at Lochinvar that left five families, eighteen people in all, homeless when a gas grill in a hut set fire to the wooden partitions. Fortunately on this occasion nobody was injured. The Evening News described the camp as “shanty town squalor” for 150 families and that conditions there were “not British“. By the 1951 the huts were well past their expected lifespans but the housing demand was such that even though the Education Committee wanted its playing fields back, it was told “no” and the camp was to remain as housing.

This was in spite of the fact the Corporation could barely keep up with the basic maintenance, never mind make improvements. In the preceding year the Lochinvar camp had an average of 176 families resident and was costing the city £4,997 for gas, £68 for coke fuel and £824 for electricity. In two years the city had run up a £19,289 deficit for fuel costs alone across its emergency camps. This was before they outlay of £55 per household (at Lochinvar) for maintenance, almost twice what each was paying in rent. Residents claimed the authorities were trying to force larger families living in huts laid out inside as one large apartment into the same sized space divided into more apartments, for which they would have to pay higher rents. Sickness rates amongst children were high and dysentery was becoming common. Vandalism was endemic and there were worrying cases of child neglect reported. Residents said that they had stopped giving out their address as being in the camps when applying for jobs as it usually saw them turned down and a case brought before the Burgh Police Court as a result of a fist-fight heard that it was brought on by the overcrowded conditions in the camp; it was “the kind of place that would make you fight with your own shadow” according to the witness.

Enough was enough. The secretary of the camp’s residents association said conditions were “absolutely scandalous” and protests were organised in conjunction with residents of the other camps and an organisation called Housing Crusade. Placards were carried with messages such as “We Want Houses, Not Promises“, “A Camp Is Not a House“, “Homes Before Festivals” and “Edinburgh – Build Your Allocation“. Residents at Duddingston Camp reported the police removed posters they had put up on perimeter fencing as a tourist bus route went past it.

At last it seemed that the city was listening and in December 1951 laid out a plan to deal with the problem of the camps. It would close down Craigentinny as soon as possible, huts in the worst repair in the other camps would be closed too and to deal with the fuel costs the huts would be fitted with coin-operated gas and electricity meters. But such was the drawn-out nature of the UK’s post-war economic malaise, in 1954 the camps at Duddingston, Sighthill and Lochinvar were still being used even though in theory each hut would be closed down when its residents left for permanent housing. It was agreed in March that year that Sighthill and Duddingston camps would be exited expeditiously by preferential allocation of new houses to tenants. But the long suffering residents at Wardie found they were overlooked, even though the place was ever more decrepit the city judged their camp to be in the best condition of the three and so they would have to stay put. Indeed, some huts that should have been permanently closed down were even brought back into use, even though it was normal practice for the resident children to commandeer the empty properties as gang huts and thoroughly trash the interiors. A similar fate befell the Wardie sports pavilion, leaving one local councillor to go on the record that it wanted a “good fire” to help improve it.

It was not until December 1955 that it was announced that they would get permanent homes and even then it took a further year for the last 71 families at Lochinvar to be moved from their “temporary” accommodation; a full ten years after it was taken over for “emergency” use. Within a year the hut bases were ploughed up and the Corporation’s groundskeepers were finally allowed back in to returf the pitches. There is nothing to be seen on the ground these days of what was – for over a decade – hundreds of houses with thousands of families passing through them.

Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

If you have found this site useful, informative or amusing then you can help contribute towards its running costs by supporting me on ko-fi. This includes my commitment to keeping it 100% advert and AI free for all time coming, and in helping to find further unusual stories to bring you by acquiring books and paying for research.
Or please do just share this post on social media or amongst friends and like-minded people, sites like this thrive on being shared.

Explore Threadinburgh by map:

These threads © 2017-2026, Andy Arthur.

NO AI TRAINING: Any use of the contents of this website to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.