The Life and Times of the Towers

Nowadays the residents of Cleveleys know the Towers (situated just off Holmefield Avenue at the end of a short but leafy drive) as an urban oasis; a quiet squirrel-infested woodland secreted away at the centre of a labyrinth of peaceful avenues where only local hedgehogs, toads and ducks know of its existence.
It’s sometimes used as a meeting point for the Wyre Rangers and the Healthy Walks Squad, although they’re almost as difficult to spot as the wrens that hop about in the trees.
Even those in the know, however, are unlikely to remember it looking like this:


It did once, though.
Even earlier the place was known as Villa Wood and there have always been rumours that the Danes’ Pad (the Wyre’s infamous missing Roman road) ran through the grounds. We’re neither going to confirm nor deny this, because we just don’t know, although the name Villa Wood is intriguing in its own right, especially when, according to Ralph Smedley’s ‘Thornton Cleveleys Remembered’, he recalled as a child seeing a large fig tree growing outside the front door.
We could speculate for hours about its origins, but what we do know is that, on old maps, there was an ancient route running from Thornton, via the Towers (before the Towers itself existed), through Ritherham and on to Rossall Mill, which stood in the vicinity of the new cinema near Jubilee Gardens nowadays. The old route was marked by those odd boundary stones we often find in such places round these parts. One is still in situ at the West Drive entrance to the Towers (albeit heavily disguised beneath a Quatermass-like growth of ivy). Another can just about be determined, half eaten by the hedges surrounding the substation on North Drive.
In 1904 (or so our lackadaisical investigations have revealed) Messrs Horrocks, of the famous Preston textile firm (well…it’s famous in Preston, apparently, even if nobody else has ever heard of it) bought the entire Thornton Estate, which consisted of all the fields and woodlands stretching from Bourne Hall to Cleveleys, incorporating the aforementioned Towers en route. It was the Horrocks’ family who built the Towers itself as a hunting lodge, the residence of a certain Kess Hodgkinson, gamekeeper.
We assume it was around this period that the grounds also acquired the sundial from Bourne Hall, now serving time as a bird table next to one of the ponds. (At least we think it is. It certainly looks like the same bit of ornate garden furniture anyhow.)
Needless to say the building has now gone. Back in the 1913 ‘Healthy Cleveleys’ brochure, however, the following advert appears:

“The famous ‘Champion Conn,’ of Cleveleys, who holds an international reputation. Winner of 25 Championships. This record has never been equalled by any Dane in any part of the world. Young stocks always for sale. Stud Fee, £4 4s.”

In case you’re starting to get worried, the advert ends:

“Apply: Kennel Man, the Towers, Thornton-le-Fylde. Telephone 22, Cleveleys.”

What are we doing here? We can do better than this. We can show you a photograph of the famous Conn. Here he is, so famous that you’ve probably never heard of him:


It would appear that the ‘Kennel Man’ in question was a certain Mr Kirwan, owner of the original Cleveleys Inn, although at the time of his ownership it wasn’t an inn any longer but simply his home.
Mr Kirwan originally had kennels attached to his Cleveleys Inn home (which stood, incidentally, where the Olympia stands today) but moved to the Towers when he needed space to expand, which would explain why the school kids locally at the time knew the spot as Kirwan’s Woods. (It might explain the legend of the ‘Great Danes’ Pad as well.)
Not only did the Towers over its lifespan act as host to kennels. It was also once home to Highfield Girls’ College (‘the School in a Garden’), run by Miss E. Aitkin and Miss Gee. You might just about be able to recognise the grounds in the advert below.


Just for good measure, we’ve also got a photograph of some of the students, taken during the Rose Queen Celebrations of the 1950s. By coincidence we came across the following entry in the guest book over at Phil Barker’s site not so long ago (http://www.rossallbeach.co.uk) left by Fiona Hogan:

“My mum the rose queen at Highfield College (The Towers) pictured was the last rose queen they had.”


In more recent times -- although still a great many years ago as the chronological crows flies -- I personally remember climbing the tallest tree in the Towers, the one that’s leaning dangerously at a forty-five degree angle now but at the time rose to a dizzying height of…oh, at least 2000 feet, perching on the uppermost branches amongst the startled squirrels and surveying the Fylde through a pair of binoculars.
It was a stupid thing for a forty-odd year man to do now that I come to look back on it, but I was extremely drunk at the time and didn’t know any better.