Southend-on-Sea Kursaal - how it used to be (Southend Kursaal)

Member Name: GentleGenius

Product:	Southend Kursaal
Date:	03/09/08 (967 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: It was the powerhouse of Southend-on-Sea in bygone days

Disadvantages: None at the time, but later on, its closure

SOUTHEND-ON-SEA : MY KURSAAL MEMORIES

BRIEF HISTORY

In this article as a whole, though I will give a brief outline of The Kursaal's early history, I am mainly concerned with my own experiences and memories of what, to me (and quite a lot of other people of my own age and older), was the heart and soul of Southend-on-Sea back in the 1950s and 1960s.

24th July 1901 was a very special day in Southend-on-Sea. It was the day of the grand opening of the Kursaal Funfair.

27 acres of wasteland were bought and turned into what is believed to be the world's first theme park, even pre-dating New York's Coney Island. The funfair comprised various rides and sideshows and even had a Freak Show (thank goodness society later changed for the better in what it chose for its entertainment value!). Some years later a small zoo was added - which later closed on humanitarian grounds - and the Kursaal boasted the world's first ever female Wall Of Death motorbike rider. There was always an element of something approaching a delicious danger in the early days of Kursaal entertainment; for instance, there was a sideshow where a man known as "Togo, The Arizona Snake Handler" would enthral his audience with his seemingly daredevil manipulation of snakes. The snakes were of a harmless variety, but I'd imagine most of the people who marvelled at "Togo" believed them to be dangerous.

Over the years, the Kursaal continued to increase in popularity, and became a wonderland for local people and day trippers from the East End of London. One of the main attractions for the summer season of 1933, was that the owner of the Kursaal had bought the actual car which Al Capone had used in his crimes, and had it shipped over from America. This car was displayed inside a wooden stall, and Kursaal revellers were charged 3d for children and 6d for adults to see the gangster's vehicle. Another attraction was a massive glass case containing a dead embalmed whale, and during the 1930s George "Tornado" Smith rode around the Wall Of Death, with a lioness accompanying him on his motorbike.

Part of the Kursaal was under cover, and the roof was crowned by a large and very distinctive silver dome; this dome quickly and affectionately earned the Kursaal the nickname of "By The Dome It's Known", or for those who preferred a description with more brevity, "The Dome". Inside the dome was a huge ballroom where regular dances were held and bands would play live, and during the 1930s and 1940s, this was a huge attraction for fans of big band music. Off to the side of the silver dome was the Kursaal arcade, in which were a couple of rides and lots of side stalls, such as rifle ranges, skittles games, fortune tellers etc.

During World War II, the fairground part of the Kursaal was closed to the public and used to temporarily house soldiers returning from battle, though the dome remained open so that the visiting big bands could still provide the entertainment for dances. A company called "Swallow Raincoats" opened a factory inside of the Kursaal where they manufactured rainwear for serving soldiers, and it was "manned" mostly by local women whose husbands were away serving in the war. The Water Chute ride was used as a reserve water supply for the local people, and tarred over to seal the water inside, against evaporation.

Once the war had ended, the Kursaal was then re-opened to the public, and entered into what for most local people and day trippers from East London, was its absolute heyday - the 1940s, 1950s and early to mid 1960s......and, in 1947 eight years before I was born, my father began to work summer seasons in the Kursaal, manning the newly re-opened Water Chute ride with his friend, Sid.

MY PERSONAL KURSAAL MEMORIES

From the day I drew my first breath, the Kursaal was one of the most important parts of my early childhood. The house where I lived with my family was just 500 yard from the perimeter fence, and during those what seemed like longer and hotter summers than we have nowadays, the sound of the air for miles around would be filled with screams of joy, as Kursaal revellers were flung from pillar to post on the 1950s version of white-knuckle rides. Joining in with the faint chuffing of distant pier trains travelling up and down the longest pleasure pier in the world, was the constant summertime noise of the machinery of Kursaal rides, the most prominent being the large roller coaster called The Cyclone.

My very early memories are about being taken to see "Daddy" while he was at work on the Water Chute. My mum and sister would take me right up to the Water Chute, and we'd stand and watch as my dad would, from the top way up high in the air, pack a wooden boat full of people and give it a hefty shove onto the downward-slanting rail - he would then quickly jump on the back of the boat, and it would hurtle down the chute, picking up speed, and when it hit the water at the bottom, all the onlookers would get soaked. A few adults weren't keen on that, but for a very small child it was great fun. We'd wait for my dad to finish his shift, then the whole family would stroll around the Kursaal - stopping off at one of the cafes for a fry-up or similar - then making sure we didn't go too close to the Wall Of Death because I was so scared of the noise it made, we'd (all for free as my dad was staff) go on as many of the rides as we could. We would also be stuffing our faces with free toffee apples, candy floss, popcorn and other sea-front fayre.

Those lovely memories took place during the years from my birth in 1954 through until the early summer of 1959 - I was unable to go to the Kursaal myself in 1959 as I was too ill - but in 1960, my dad was moved to working on the Ghost Train ride, due to not being able to haul around heavy wooden boats full of people, because of an incurred back injury. During 1960, I was at school, and the Easter, Whitsun and summer holidays were spent in the Kursaal with my dad and his co-worker, Johnny, on the Ghost Train. It was a major source of excitement for me to be taken to the Kursaal, clinging onto my dad's hand, and watch all the mechanics checking the rides for safety, while I had free run of the place. Everybody was so very friendly, and I was allowed to go on as many rides as I wanted for free. After the checking was over, the main gates would be opened and people would (often queues would run half the length of the sea front) drop their shilling entrance fee in the coin slot on the big metal turnstile, and allowed into the Kursaal by a uniformed man guarding the gates. One of my greatest pleasures was, before the gates opened, to be taken into the back of the Ghost Train ride by my dad and Johnny as they checked the car rails for safety, and all the lights would be on. I loved going up and touching all the wax models of skeletons, ghosts, bats and other ghoulish things which would scare the hell out of people when the ride was in action, and they were sent hurtling along the rails at top speed in little green-painted cars in the darkness while ghosts wailed, plastic spiders dangling from the ceiling would brush against their faces and zombies with clanking chains would emit earthy moans that sounded as if from the depths of hell.

On my dad's days off, he'd take me into the Kursaal for fun rather than his work, and we'd go on (free!) all the rides together. My favourites were The Caterpillar and The Caves - I always had a dream of going on The Cyclone, but for safety reasons, you had to be over 14 to use the ride as it was (by those days' standards) very wild. My dad and I would stroll through the arcade and play on slot machines, have a go on the coconut shy or the rifle ranges, and we'd have lunch in the staff canteen with his workmates. After lunch we'd again stroll through the Kursaal grounds until it was time to go home. Those are some of my most treasured childhood memories.

What was so very atmospheric about the Kursaal? A lot of it was to do with a combination of noises and smells, plus a very happy and upbeat general mood of the place which I suppose was created by the cheerful staff and the holiday spirit of all the visitors to the Kursaal. The sun always seemed to be shining, and I remember several times walking through the Kursaal grounds when it was so hot that the tar on the paved areas would melt, creating yet another delicious and atmospheric smell. Some of the other smells were that of candy floss, toffee apples, shellfish stalls mingling with the slightly smoky (yet pleasant) oily aroma emitted from the rides. The sounds were mainly that of people simply enjoying themselves together with the clanking, rolling noises of metal on metal of the rides in motion - but above all, there was music blaring out from huge loudspeakers all over the fairground - this music was old, rare rock & roll and doo-wop which was regularly imported from America, and is of the sort of music that even to this day, is only recognised and appreciated by rare 1950s rock & roll/doo-wop conoisseurs.

There was a large variety of rides in the Kursaal and I will briefly describe just a few:

THE GALLOPERS
A carousel ride with colourful horses bouncing up and down on a roundabout, which I believe had been in the Kursaal since the 1920s.

THE WATER CHUTE
People would seat themselves in wooden boats at the top of a high slope, and the boat would be pushed and travel at accelerating speed down the slope. As the boat reached the bottom and slid along the flat rail which was immersed under about 6" of water, a huge fountain would spray into the air and over the spectators' fence barrier, soaking anyone watching (plus soaking those in the boats).

THE BOWL SLIDE
This was a variation on the helter-skelter slide theme. On entering the ride, people would be given a hairy mat to sit on a little yellow moving seat and be transported (approx. 200 ft up) to the top. They would climb off the yellow seat, then enter the enclosed slide - sit on the mat, and twirl round and round in a spiral to the bottom of the slide.....then, they on their mat would be shot into a huge bowl-shaped area where the surface was made of shiny wood slats. The idea was that you would spin round and round the walls of this bowl until you got to the bottom. It was always very difficult to climb out of, but in general people made it.

THE ROCK & ROLL TUBS
These were large, brightly coloured tub shapes with seats around the interior, and a safety handrail at the top. People would get inside the tubs, sit on the seats, and when the ride started, the tubs would move along a track, rocking and rolling backwards and forwards - quite violently once the ride was in full swing - with random movement. This was one of my favourite rides.

THE CATERPILLAR
A row of cars were suspended, in a circle, pivoted on long metal stems affixed to a central point where the ride was operated from. These cars would swing backwards and forwards a little, and people would sit inside (usually 2 people to each car), then the ride would begin. The central stem would rotate, gathering speed, and the cars would travel over an undulating track around in a circle. As the ride got faster and faster, the cars would swing more and at approximately 10 second intervals, a large green ribbed (to give the impression of a caterpillar) canvas hood would roll over people's heads, completely enclosing them - before, after another 10 or so seconds, rolling back again. This process would repeat approximately 5 times for the duration of the ride.

THE CAKEWALK
This was in the arcade part of the Kursaal, and was a ride constructed of two wooden walkways with handrails that were connected to machinery underneath the ride. People would stand at the beginning of the first walkway, and be advised by the operator (my dad also for a short time worked on this ride) to hold tight. The ride would begin slowly, and the idea was to walk along the first section, then move forward and complete the second section. Sounds easy, but as the walk progressed along the wooden floors of the sections, the whole ride would shake around.....beginning slowly, then getting faster and faster.

THE FLYING COASTER
This ride was introduced in about 1960-ish (possibly 1961) and if my memory serves me correctly, was rather short-lived. People would sit in cars suspended from stems connected to a central operating mechanism, and a strong metal safety bar would be locked around them at waist level. Passengers were given a dire warning by the operator of the ride, that under no circumstances must the safety bar be undone while the ride was in motion. The ride would begin, and the cars would slowly, gathering speed all the time, move around in an arc-shape, up a sliding rail....the rail ended in mid-air, about 50ft high. As the car moved over (by this time at high speed) the point where the rail cut off, the whole car would jerk and shake about as it travelled to ground level......that would repeat about 6 times for the duration of the ride. I believe the Flying Coaster was dismantled just a few weeks after it first became available, due to a fatality where a lady had by all accounts ignored the warnings, and undid her safety bar. She was, at the highest point of the ride as the car she was sitting in jerked over the part high up where the rail ended in mid-air, flung out, and incurred fatal injuries to her head as she hit the ground.
(NB: The Kursaal in general had a very good safety record, and apart from one minor accident in the late 1960s on the Wild Mouse scenic railway ride, there was only one other fatality on a ride, and that occurred in the late 1920s).

They are just a small handful of the Kursaal rides which were running during the late 1950s and very early 1960s. The whole fairground contained at least 50 - maybe more - rides, including a few kiddie roundabouts.

There were also plenty of other features such as the above-mentioned rifle ranges, coconut shies etc. and it would take me forever to list them, but I think my favourites were the man who made animals from balloons, and a stall that was circled by a slowly swirling tank of cold water in which were several plastic goldfish - the idea of the game (to win usually a cuddly toy as a prize), was to take a pole with a hook on the end, and catch as many fish as you could. It was lovely also just to stand and swirl your fingers through the cold water on an extremely hot day.

The Kursaal even had its own train, known as the Kursaal Flyer, and this was used every year in the Southend carnival as one of the floats.

I really could go on and on forever about the Kursaal which sadly, as the 1960s progressed, began to decline in popularity. Instead of spending their holidays at British seaside resorts, people began to go on Mediterranean package holidays in their droves. Though the Kursaal still did have visitors, fewer people thought of a day trip to Southend as a good thing to do; therefore, more use was made of the ballroom inside of the dome - wrestling matches would be held on a weekly basis, and a small piece of filming for the 1960s cult TV programme "The Prisoner" was made inside of the fairground. As we moved into the late 1960s and all through the 1970s, the Kursaal became a popular venue for rock bands to perform live concerts - I remember seeing Status Quo there in I think 1971, and was deaf for three days!!!!

The decline continued though, and by the time the 1980s were upon us, the visitors had dwindled down to a level where it was no longer considered profitable to keep the fairground open - so, very sadly it closed. I can remember walking past the Kursaal at that time, and peeped through the wooden fence to see all my wonderful childhood playground had just been left to rot. A decision was made to turn the fairground part of the Kursaal into a housing estate, and the bulldozers moved in. I joined the crowds of born and bred Southenders standing at the fence watching as what had been the soul of Southend-on-Sea, even with its at times sordid reputation, just razed to the ground. We held a silent wake for this loss, and it for me in my life has been one of the hardest things I've had to let go of.

The dome of the Kursaal remains though, and back in the 1990s an attempt was made to revamp the inside and once again make it one of Southend's major attractions. Of course the funfair could never be restored, as you just can't walk in and demolish a housing estate, but it was considered that re-opening the dome would go some way towards bringing Southend back to being the lively, thriving and highly atmospheric seaside town that it was in its heyday. Nowadays, the inside of the Kursaal dome boasts the Rendezvous casino, a restaurant, a bowling alley and a couple of bars - though I've not been inside this re-vamped version, I did last year walk past the dome and up the road towards where the fairground entrance one was, and it has to be said that appearance-wise, just that few yards hasn't changed since my early childhood, and I was able to imagine how it once was back in those golden days of the 1950s and 1960s - the ghosts of the past still haunt that area, and for me they are all that is left.

Sometimes I still dream of the Kursaal, and in these dreams it is how it was when at its best; with the fairground opening and running, then the dream changes into me walking around the grounds after its closure - with everything sad and neglected, all the fun and life gone forever.

Oh, I could have said so very much more than what I have done above, but if I did I'm sure this article would exceed DooYoo's total webspace, and would take me several years to type (even though my speed is 90wpm). I just feel that Southend as a town has died a gradual death, and that demise began the day they closed the Kursaal fairground. An attempt has been made to re-create a fairground atmosphere by turning Peter Pan's Playground into Adventure Island, but as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't even come close. I appreciate that Adventure Island is a modern-day haven for children of this era, and that's OK - but then they don't have anything to compare it with as even their parents were probably children when the old faithful Kursaal fairground was closed down.

Thanks for reading this trip down memory lane!

Summary: I just wish it was still there, how it used to be