Moston now has its own historic flat land…
Hough Hall has been sold for development, bulldozing the hopes of so many that this once beautiful and evocative 500 year old farmhouse could be saved from the trammels of progress and the government’s demand for more and more housing.
This once imposing but now ramshackle and derelict building at the back of a Victorian school in a failing Manchester suburb went at auction for just over quarter of a million. It had an estimate of £150,000.
Yet, thousands of Mostonians last year demanded it was rescued.
More than 6000 residents supported a campaign to stop the Grade 11 listed building vanishing like some awful ghost after decades of neglect.
Nobody with any power listened. And the secretive owner of Hough Hall – a once quite famous and certainly influential artist – was too ill to do anything about it.
The auction details describe it as a “dilapidated Character Building and Site”.
It is dilapidated, yes … but it is much more than that.
It is a Tardis of the history of Moston, once a thriving mill and brick-making area – a place known too for its linen and lace making, dye works, tanneries, print works and breweries.
But Hough Hall was also the home to one of Britain’s unsung heroes of art, the man who helped change the face of modern video, Roger Barnard.
The tragic story of his life and love was played out against the background of this beautiful black and white Tudor farmhouse which stand a few yards away from the bustling Moston Lane and behind an impressive Victorian school.
Last year the campaign caused so much interest in Moston that the original story by journalist Leigh G Banks was banned by Facebook for over-sharing.
Despite the interest though, Manchester City Council said at the time there was nothing they could do to protect near-derelict Hough Hall.
And, shockingly Historic England, which curates the UK’s history, referred the Leigh back to the council when they were approached for help.
The early 17 century hall is listed because of its wood wall panels, its gables and its wattle and daub construction. Yet it has been left to decay and, at some stage, has been used as a drugs den.
Roger Barnard and Heather Mawhinney took on Hough Hall and had grand plans for it, immersing themselves in the local community and holding open days to show off their ancient home.
Less than two years later though, they put the house up for sale for £200,000 and went on their way.
It has been abandoned more or less ever since.
This is what a spokesperson for the city council had to say: “As the property is privately owned, it is out of our jurisdiction.”
However, surprisingly, an Historic England spokesperson said: “Close contact with the local authority is vital at all times.”
She went on the add: “Communities can play an active role in saving their cherished heritage by being the eyes and ears on the ground. This might be through Heritage Watch schemes to prevent vandalism, setting up Friends Groups or launching a campaign. In some cases, local people have even established Trusts, taking ownership of vulnerable buildings and implementing solutions. Contact with the owner is vital too.”
Leigh G Banks, a former national newspaper journalist and now a broadcaster and editor of www.leighgbankspreservationsociety.blog said: “This is the response we’ve come to expect but it is only the opening shot – there are things that can be done to save a building like this and if people are willing to take on the fight our news organisation and the radio station will do all we can to highlight what is happening.
“The man on the street can win in these circumstances!
But in this case the man in the street didn’t. Moston and Manchester, the art world, history, memory and our heritage all lost out.
Hough Hall, one day soon, will be gone in a flash.
Tell us about an ancient ruin in your part of the world that your local council is about to destroy …
#moston #manchester #rogerbarnard #videohistory #grade11 #listed #history #development #houghhall
I used to cycle around the Hall when I was a child in the 60s. Later, I wrote works of history, ironically working for the Council. They claimed to care about the city’s heritage in those days, but it was just window dressing. They’re only interested in building wall-to-wall streetscrapers and student accommodation, buildings like the abomination they shoehorned onto Piccadilly Gardens, which obscured one of central Manchester’s rare open sightlines. A city with no heritage is like a man with no memory; lost, and cast adrift. In the midst of the new, we can, and must, preserve the old.