THE POST - SPRING 2018

THE LONG READ SPRING 2018 SPRING 2018 THE LONG READ
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DR SEAN GAMMON
Senior Lecturer
Lancashire School of Business and Enterprise
DR DAVID JARRATT
Senior Lecturer
Lancashire School of Business and Enterprise
PROF RICHARD SHARPLEY
Professor of Tourism
Lancashire School of Business and Enterprise
“The panoramic vistas of Morecambe
Bay inspire a sense of awe”
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Following decades of slow decline, Morecambe’s humiliation was
complete in 2003 when it was awarded the dubious honour of third
place in Sam Jordison’s provocative book Crap Towns: The 50 Worst
Places to Live in the UK. The publication was conceived after the
Lancashire-born journalist paid a visit to the seaside town and was
horrified by what he saw. The pages of his humorous yet damning
compendium are crammed with photographs of derelict seaside
attractions and pitiful tales of decline, political blunders and faded
dreams. Derided as “the seaside town they never should have opened,”
Morecambe shared the podium of shame with the Scottish ‘new town’
of Cumbernauld (in second place) and the ‘winners’, Yorkshire’s
perennial whipping boy, Hull (although, thanks to its role as UK City of
Culture in 2017, its star now appears to be on the rise).
The Lancashire town’s public shaming came during a spell when the Council
were still licking their wounds from an ill-fated endeavour to regenerate
Morecambe’s economy. They had recently been forced to cough up around £2m
(including legal fees) following a bitter wrangle with television personality Noel
Edmonds; the fallout from their decision in 1994 to invest millions in the new
‘World of Crinkly Bottom Theme Park’ which opened to much fanfare in July that
year before closing for good only months later. Clearly its backers had overestimated
the pulling power of a pink spotted menace named Mr Blobby and his
creator, Edmonds. The pursuit of this bearded messiah brought little salvation for
struggling Morecambe.
It had all been so different. The golden age of the resort lasted from the early
19th century right through until the middle of the 20th century, peaking either
side of the Second World War. It became a popular watering hole for the
holidaying masses who descended on the seafront to take in the coastal air and
unwind at fun-filled attractions like the Summer Gardens (opened in 1878),
Winter Gardens (1897), The Tower (1898), Alhambra Palace Theatre (1901) and
the Central and West End Piers (1869, 1896). Thrill-seekers could ride the boneshaking
rollercoasters that zipped through the West End Amusement Park
(opened in 1906, later given a ‘Wild West’ makeover and re-launched as Frontier
Land in 1987). Over 100,000 tourists thronged the length of the promenade for
its lights switch-on events in the lead-up to Christmas 1949 and 1950, while the
Miss Great Britain contest in the open air swimming baths was a major draw.
FADED GRANDEUR
Gradually, the rot set in. Domestic competition intensified. As the popularity of
the motor car soared, holidaymakers could freely explore the length and
breadth of Britain where previously their travels had been confined to resorts
situated conveniently along railway lines. Cornwall, the Lake District and other
scenic hotspots thrived at Morecambe’s expense. As the 1970s arrived the resort
sank into an apologetic shadow of its glory days. Its prized assets were stripped
away one-by-one. The Alhambra, West End Pier, lido and others closed, leaving
behind a sorry succession of hollowed-out dwellings. By the 1980s cheap flights
and package holidays were more affordable to ordinary working people and
holidaymakers spurned Morecambe in favour of the Costa del Sol and other
sun-kissed foreign shorelines.
Hundreds of guesthouses whose stubborn ‘No vacancies’ signs had once
illuminated the seafront in neon lettering began to close as visitor numbers
nosedived. A chronic lack of investment (particularly compared to Blackpool, its
glitzier coastal sibling) compounded this decline. Its shoreline still twinkled with
the alluring lights from grubby bingo halls and gaudy amusement arcades; the
sea air still carried the evocative aromas of candyfloss and fish and chips. But
the magic had gone. By the late 1980s Morecambe could hardly call itself a
tourist destination any longer. Visitor spending collapsed, from £46.6m in 1973
to £6.5m in 1990. By the time its second pier closed down in 1986, all but one of
its major attractions had gone. At its lowest ebb the town couldn’t even sustain
a single cinema – this closed in 1988. Frontier Land, with its white knuckle
thrills, staggered on until 2000.
Unemployment in some wards soared to over 50% in the 1980s, earning
Morecambe the regrettable moniker ‘The Costa del Dole.’ A raft of socioeconomic
problems blighted the town. An abundance of cheap temporary
accommodation in the form of hundreds of empty guesthouses encouraged
some authorities to treat troubled seaside resorts as dumping grounds for
society’s most problematic and disadvantaged people. Hotels which once
thronged with holidaying families now harboured drug addicts and
ex-offenders.
THE TIDE IS TURNING
In recent years, however, Morecambe has been fighting back. “Over the past
decade or so there have been some encouraging green shoots of recovery,” says
Sean Gammon, Senior Lecturer at Lancashire School of Business and Enterprise.
“Some areas of the resort, notably around the promenade, have benefited from
significant investment. When the iconic art deco Midland Hotel was re-opened
by Urban Splash in 2008 it became a beacon of hope for the town.”
Crucially, visitor numbers are on the rise, partly due to Morecambe’s success in
capturing the ‘grey pound.’ “Senior citizens have always been an important
demographic for Morecambe,” explains David Jarratt, Senior Lecturer in
Lancashire School of Business and Enterprise. “As the number of people
reaching retirement age grows, we have seen thousands of people over the age
of 65 descending on Morecambe to enjoy its cafes, restaurants, bingo halls and
guesthouses. They have been a constant, reliable and loyal asset to the local
economy over many years. These are often individuals who feel a strong
emotional connection to Morecambe because it holds so many nostalgic
memories for them. Many will have holidayed there with their parents when
they were young children. Now, with much more leisure time on their hands,
they come back again and again to enjoy similar experiences with their own
children, grandchildren and friends.” Coach operators have always brought in
senior day-trippers from across the country, although most repeat visitors come
from the surrounding north-west region. It’s a phenomenon which has saddled
Morecambe with an image problem (the pejorative nickname ‘Costa Geriatrica’
does it no favours) but older tourists are the lifeblood of Morecambe’s
resurgent economy.
So what compels people to keep coming back? In 2016 Jarratt and Gammon,
together with Richard Sharpley, Professor of Tourism and Development, set out
to find answers. They carried out a series of semi-structured interviews with
regular visitors to Morecambe aged between 55-75. It quickly became clear that
Morecambe’s stunning coastline remains its star attraction. Tourists posing for
photographs on the regenerated promenade alongside the smiling sculpture of
Eric Bartholemew (the entertainer whose stage alias, Eric Morecambe, paid
tribute to his origins) are rewarded with spectacular views.
“The panoramic vistas of Morecambe Bay inspire a sense of awe,” explains
Jarratt. “Across the Bay you can admire vast stretches of sand, salt marshes
teeming with life, rich cockle beds and the seemingly endless expanse of the
Irish Sea beyond.” One respondent said it best: “You look across that bay,
particularly on a summer’s evening when the sun’s going down, and it’s over
the bay and there’s such beautiful sunsets and beautiful views that you can’t
help but be moved by it.”
SOUL SEARCHING BY THE SEA
That sense of wonder which stirs inside the soul when we are in the presence of
something vast and seemingly infinite has often been likened to a spiritual
encounter, explains Sharpley. “Many of those interviewed expressed a deep
yearning to re-connect with nature or creation. In the coastal landscape of
Morecambe Bay they are encountering something awe-inspiring and thoughtprovoking.
In Western societies people often describe an almost primal longing
to return to the sea. They feel compelled to escape; to detach themselves from
the industrial, urban environments of their everyday grind and flee to another
landscape which in contrast appears natural, timeless and infinite.” Even in our
increasingly secular age, those of us who do not bow down before celestial
gods can still revel in a quasi-spiritual encounter in the presence of something
great and unknowable.
Geologists recognise that coastal environments are perpetual shape-shifters,
their undulating tides carving out their forms over millennia through the
unceasing processes of erosion and weathering. To most observers, though, the
seascape around Morecambe Bay seems ancient, unchanging, vast and eternal.
“This encounter with the seemingly infinite somehow invites us to draw
comparisons with our relatively brief lives and reflect on our mortality as we
measure our existence and importance relative to the whole of creation,” says
Sharpley. “We may also feel a sense of helplessness as the sands of time slip
irretrievably between our fingers.” One elderly interviewee, who has since
passed away, lamented: “When we’re not here they’ll still be…the tide will ebb
and it’ll flow.”