By Paul Wright | 27 May 2018, 14:57pm


After the slum clearances of the sixties Manchester’s inner-city district of Hulme saw a radical departure from the usual ‘two up-two down’ social housing of previous decades. A futuristic vision of deck access flats, maisonettes and huge brutalist crescents had promised to bring comfortable living, combined with large open areas of green space to its newly housed residents, less than a mile from the city centre.


However this idyllic utopia never materialised in working class Manchester, and in 1978 the social housing scheme was blasted by the then chair of Manchester City Council’s Housing Committee, who described the re-development of Hulme as an absolute disaster – “it shouldn’t have been planned, it shouldn’t have been built” he claimed.

Charles Barry Crescent, 1990. Photo © Richard Davis.


The four main crescents that dominated Hulme – Robert Adam, John Nash, Charles Barry and William Kent were named after the main architects for Georgian Bath, from which the crescent designs drew inspiration from.


This second version of Hulme was planned, and it was was built – and whilst there were many problems and difficult times for residents, there were also memorable ones too. During its turbulent lifespan a diverse and tight-nit community made Hulme a place like no other.




Towards the end of the seventies times were particularly tough, high levels of unemployment, social unrest and crime dominated life around the crescents. The controversial stop and search ‘sus’ law was being used to discriminate against mainly young black men from Hulme, and neighbouring Moss Side, becoming a major contributor to police fallout and the inner city riots that were on the horizon.


A positive outlet against the troubled backdrop was the Factory night at The Russell Club. Situated on Royce road it was launched by Factory’s Alan Erasmus and Tony Wilson with the help of local promoter Alan Wise. The name Factory was used homage to the New York club of the same and was Tony’s vision of a Warhol-esque set up in Manchester. The Factory night attracted numerous touring bands to the area and many upcoming post punk bands passed through its doors. Echo & The Bunnymen, The Human League, The Cure and Factory’s own Joy Division and A Certain Ratio all graced its stage during the clubs life span.

The Factory/Russell Club, 1979. Photo © Kevin Cummins.





The eighties brought in a shift of bohemian culture to the area. Artists, ravers, drop outs and punks were drawn to the area, with its zero rent and diy ethos. Hulme became a multicultural and diverse utopia, described by locals as a self-contained republic with it’s own set of rules.


It even had its own independent arts cinema at the time – The Aaben, an old cinema dating back to the 1920s. The Aaben wasn’t much to look at from the outside but it had an impressive interior, it led the way for Arthouse cinema in Manchester, way before the city centre’s Cornerhouse arrived.


The Aaben Cinema. Photo © Richard Davis.


After hours was a haven for party goers and hedonists, makeshift venues like The Kitchen (which was basically two flats knocked through with a sledgehammer) hosted many a post night out/early morning gathering with DJs often playing a set there after appearing at The Gallery or Hacienda in the city centre.

The Kitchen, 1988. Photo submitted to The People’s Archive.



The PSV (Public Service Vehicles) club, originally a social club for bus drivers (and previously the Russell) hosted regular DJs and live bands. Remembered by many as as a bit of a rum establishment, it played a mixed bag of music downstairs and predominately reggae upstairs. It welcomed a diverse crowd through its doors, from old frazzled locals and Cheshire kids to single mums, gangsters and students.





By the early nineties the rot had well and truly set in, most of the clubs and pubs had gone or became a no go zone for many. After being abandoned by the council for so long the flats and crescents were on their last legs, plagued by damp, squalor and infestations the council finally found the money for their demolition.


In 1993, just twenty one years after their completion, demolition began, making way for the new Hulme of today which is mostly unrecognisable to its former residents.


Our gallery below revisits the old Hulme, a place where memories and lifelong friendships were forged by a sense of community, survival and belonging.



John Nash Crescent, 1984. Photo © Adam T. Burton

Hulme, 1990. Photo © Richard Davis.

Hulme, 1980s. Photo submitted to The People’s Archive.

The Iron Duke, 1980s. Photo © Roger Shelley.

A young boy sits on a car covered in graffiti, early 1990s. Photo © Al Baker.

Graffiti. Charles Barry Crescent, 1980s. Photo © Richard Davis.


British Culture Archive is a non-profit organisation. In 2020/2021 we want to open a permanent gallery and exhibition space where we can showcase our People’s Archive alongside work from our featured photographers. If you appreciate the work we do PLEASE help by supporting our Crowdfunder campaign HERE



Exclusive prints are now available from our online shop. All proceeds from sales support the photographers we work with and help maintain and fund our free resource and exhibitions in the UK.




2020 © British Culture Archive.