Between the wars, a Bradshaw's was an essential guide
during the golden age of rail travel,
when glamorous locomotives travelled at world-record speed.
I'm using a 1930s edition to explore
a discernibly modern era of mass consumption.
Bravo!
When Art Deco cinemas and dance halls entertained millions.
While industrial Britain was thrown into unemployment and poverty,
and storm clouds gathered across the Channel.
By 1936, Bradshaw's Guide was written mainly for the benefit
of tourists, and emphasises the beauty of southwest England,
praising Cornwall's mighty granite cliffs and magnificent coastline.
They attracted Britain's social elite,
who arrived by train to paint and sculpt and write.
But this was - or had been - a mining area,
and was hit hard by the Great Depression.
When I complete my journey, on Salisbury Plain,
I'll recall that unemployment came to an end only
when Britain required every man and woman to win the war.
I'm embarking on a journey through England's West Country.
I'll begin in Cornwall, in St Ives.
My route will take me to Plymouth, Totnes and Bath.
I shall end on Salisbury Plain.
My journey begins on Cornwall's north coast,
where I'll explore an artist's haven.
I'll follow the 1930s tourist trail to Hayle,
before turning east to Redruth, and the village of St Day.
On this trip, I investigate interwar railway facilities...
"Please do not use lavatory when train is at a station."
Better not use it, then!
..enjoy Cornish generosity...
All the elderly, over 65, have a free tea in the marquee.
Whoopee!
..and feel the heat of the potter's kiln.
Standing back. Yeah.
Whoa! Whoa.
That's pretty exciting. That's brilliant.
I'm on my way to St Ives,
which Bradshaw's tells me is well situated with a special lure,
and certainly because of its picturesque beach and seascape,
and in particular, thanks to its wonderful light,
it attracted painters from afar
with the same magnetism as the South of France.
I'm drawn to investigate its artist colony of the 1930s
by a local man who was born during the Crimean War.
With a view of the beautiful north Cornish coast, the approach
into St Ives station is amongst Britain's most scenic.
The railway arrived here in 1877,
making it possible to reach the once remote fishing village easily
for the first time.
Hello! Hi, how are you? Hello there.
Very well. Are you visitors to St Ives today?
We are indeed. We are indeed. Yeah.
What's the great attraction about St Ives?
The beaches are beautiful.
Pasties.
Cornish pasties.
Definitely the pasties.
Within five minutes of being here, we'd had a pasty.
It's supposedly famous for its light.
Is any of you a photographer or an artist?
Yes, it's got great light down here.
Do you draw, or...? I do, I do design, but...
..it's fantastic.
That's why you've always got to wear sunglasses.
We've just seen the train come along the coastline there, into St Ives.
That, for a ten-minute train ride, is fantastic. So beautiful.
Yeah, it is.
You warm my heart.
In the 1930s, St Ives became well known as a destination
on the Great Western Railways Holiday Line.
But while tourists came and went, art put St Ives on the map,
and drew creative spirits to the town.
I'm meeting Sara Matson, a curator of the Tate Gallery.
Sara, what's the artist scene in St Ives between the two World Wars?
Well, of course, St Ives was renowned as an artist community
since the late 1800s.
And by the late '20s, a number of artists working in St Ives came
together and founded the St Ives Society of Artists.
But, of course, St Ives is also famed for its local artist
Alfred Wallis, who had begun working in the 1920s.
Now Wallis was a retired fisherman who had come to St Ives in the 1880s
and, after the death of his wife,
he'd started painting in his '70s... Wow.
..and a completely self-tutored artist.
How did he come to public attention?
Well, two progressive young artists from London came down -
Ben Nicholson and Christopher Wood -
and as they were visiting St Ives on a day trip one day, they passed
the open door of Alfred Wallis' house, and discovered
that it was covered with these paintings of houses and ships.
Why do you think they were struck by the work of this untutored artist?
Well, at that time, following the First World War,
a number of artists were trying to redefine what painting should be.
And Nicholson and Wood were looking for what they said was a kind
of authentic vision, something that was not the Academy view
of the world, but something that came from a more poetic
and innocent response to the world.
This chance encounter with Wallis in 1928
led to his work being exhibited in London, to critical acclaim.
Many of his pictures are displayed today at the Tate St Ives gallery.
So we're looking at two paintings here by Alfred Wallis.
One archetypal ship painting, The Blue Ship, made in 1934,
and a street scene of the houses just opposite his cottage,
on Porthmeor Square.
It's called The Hold House, Porthmeor.
I've one thing to ask you - they're all kind of knocked about in the corners here.
What's he painting on?
Anything he could find.
I mean, quite often grocery boxes,
or bits of card and paper that he found around the house.
The paintings are highly naive.
I mean, you could say childlike.
I mean, things are at strange angles.
There's no sense of proportion.
What makes this art?
Well, what's really interesting about it, and what inspired
those modern artists at the time
was the fact that he invented his own language.
He was rewriting the rules.
Things that were important to him were made large in his paintings.
That's why you see here the mount is the same size as the lighthouse
on the other side of the bay.
As Nicholson once said, you know, these are real events.
These are born from experience,
rather than a kind of pictorial view of the world.
Does Wallis then end up influencing the established artists,
like Christopher Wood, Ben Nicholson?
Absolutely. Because he kind of underwrote, you know,
the simple view of the world that they were looking for.
Here you have, in a painting by Christopher Wood,
a view of Ben Nicholson and his wife Winifred, and their son Jake,
as a fishing family, acting out the scene of a fisherman
leaving for sea.
This is called The Fisherman's Farewell.
Following the discovery of Alfred Wallis and his work,
Nicholson and his wife, the sculptor Barbara Hepworth, moved to Cornwall
shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939.
After the war, a group of younger artists gathered around them,
and together they became known as the St Ives School.
The town became a centre for modern and abstract art.
Are you visiting St Ives? We are. We are, yes.
And how are you enjoying it?
We love it, we come back every year. Oh, I see.
A regular thing. Well, that's very interesting.
Why would you come back to it, year after year?
What's the lure?
We've got two small children, so...
The beaches are close.
It's a nice place to be, isn't it?
When the sun's out, there's nowhere else better in the world.
Oh, hello! How are you enjoying your visit to St Ives?
I'm actually from St Ives. Born and bred? Born and bred, yeah.
You see an awful lot of visitors to St Ives.
What's the attraction of the place?
The climate, the beaches,
the welcoming nature of what used to be the locals,
but there isn't many left.
And you're lucky, actually, you bumped into me!
Away from the seafront, there's evidence of another outsider
who made St Ives his home at the time of my guidebook.
In 1920, Bernard Leach opened a studio on the edge of the town.
Matt, hello. I'm Michael.
Hello, Michael, welcome to The Leach Pottery.
Matthew Tyas is curator of The Leach Pottery.
What can you tell me about Bernard Leach?
He's considered by many to be the founding father
of British studio pottery.
He was born in Hong Kong in 1887,
and then raised for several years
by his missionary grandparents in Japan.
He then came back to England for his education,
and wanted to go to art school,
which sort of defied his father's wishes -
wanting Bernard to go into banking.
Did his upbringing in Asia Pacific influence his art?
It had a massive impact. Bernard actually got into pottery
through going to a raku party in Japan.
Raku is a low-temperature form of firing,
where you can get very immediate effects.
So Leach was absolutely enthralled by finding this,
and that led him on to wanting to start to learn pottery.
Inspired by those novel firing and decorating techniques,
Leach dedicated himself to the study and practice of Eastern pottery.
The Japanese valued ceramic work highly,
and Leach exhibited his pieces.
He began to work with Master Potter Shoji Hamada.
In 1920, the St Ives Guild of Handicrafts
invited Leach and Hamada to set up a pottery studio in St Ives.
He was making wares for tourists to decorate,
and then he was experimenting with stoneware pots too,
in more of a sort of Chinese, Korean, Japanese fashion.
So, for example, we've got a stoneware pot from the early period.
So this one is by Bernard himself.
Would this have surprised people in Britain at the time?
Well, it's a fusion of styles, really.
So you've got a Chinese form.
There's this graffito effect here on slip.
And what's interesting, I feel, is that we're also talking
about a human object, and the idea that the potter is embodying the pot
with an essence of themselves, and the person who uses that pot
is able to make a connection with another person.
So it's almost a spiritual object as well.
Leach's philosophy of design elevated British studio pottery
to an art form, and influenced generations of ceramic artists.
The studio in St Ives continues his work today.
Roelof Uys is the lead potter.
Hi, Roelof, I'm Michael.
Hello.
Good to see you. What are you working on there?
Just making some mugs.
Are you using the same tools that Bernard Leach did?
Essentially. I mean, this wheel that I'm working on was designed by him
and then later improved by his son, David.
And it's used by potters all over the world.
I have, before, tried my hand at throwing clay onto a potter's wheel.
Without great success, I might say!
So I won't try that. Is there anything else I can help with today?
Yeah, I think it'd be fun if you decorated a pot with liquid wax.
Just make a pattern, using the wax resist technique,
and then we can apply another glaze over that.
Well, I'd love to.
So I can't think of a more appropriate decoration
as a Cornish engine house.
What's an engine house? Well, an engine house was built
to pump water out of the mines,
and those were, I believe, some of the first steam engines,
so power to start off the Industrial Revolution.
Can I have a go at that? Of course.
Would you mind holding yours there?
So that I can follow what you've done.
So I'm going to try and redo this chimney.
You can hear the silence of my concentration, can't you?
You're doing very well.
Have to give it a little pitched roof here.
Oh! Isn't that pretty? Excellent! Brilliant.
Leach's pottery was the first in Britain
to use a Japanese climbing kiln,
which could achieve much higher temperatures
than its British counterparts.
But today, my artistic endeavour will be fired in the studio's
modern gas-fired equivalent.
OK, so we're going to load this in the kiln, now.
Just carefully, like that.
Make sure they don't touch each other.
So these will be fired, now, to a temperature of about 1,300 degrees
in a firing that lasts about 14 hours.
And this one is already going, is that right?
Yes, that should be at about 1,200 degrees, now.
Shall we take a look?
This will protect your eye from the heat and the glare.
If you want to remove this spile here.
Place - place the brick on the floor.
Standing back. Yeah.
Whoa! Whoa. That's pretty exciting.
That's brilliant.
You should be able to see the pots in there, glowing away.
Oh, yes.
I wouldn't want to be looking in there without these goggles on,
I must say. No, no, it's a very bright glare.
We've got about another hundred degrees to go.
In you pop. There we go.
And then the kiln will be shut down.
It will take about 24 hours to cool down, before we get the pots out.
That was exciting.
Smell of burning from the gloves.
And, so, when all that's happened, what will it look like?
Well, this will be the end result.
That is really charming. Fabulous, Roelof.
This morning, I'm back on the rails, hugging the Bay of St Ives.
Let's face it, some people are crazy about trains!
The very sight of a locomotive makes them go weak at the knees.
And such people naturally take to the tracks to reach
their annual holiday destination.
But from the 1930s, some could go even further,
sacrificing the pleasures of a seaside boarding house,
with its fearsome landlady,
in order actually to lodge in a train compartment,
making them railway sleepers.
By 1938, all industrial workers were entitled to at least
a week's paid holiday.
Eager to exploit this new market, the Great Western Railway promoted
the Cornish Riviera as an ideal holiday destination,
and offered travellers novel ways to enjoy the region.
St Erth, changing for Hayle.
This part of my journey brings me onto the Cornish main line,
which has carried tourists through the county
since the mid 19th century.
I'm alighting at the seaside town of Hayle,
on the edge of St Ives Bay.
But today I won't stray far from the station...
..where I'm meeting holiday-maker Ben Patrick - and Harvey.
Hello, Ben. Hello, Michael. Nice to meet you.
Great to see you. And you.
So, Ben, right next to Hayle station,
Harvey turns out to be a beautiful chocolate-and-cream coach.
When did this business of actually staying in carriages start off?
Well, the LNER started it off in 1933.
And then in 1934, the Great Western Railway cottoned on to the idea
that this could be a niche market, and they thought they would convert
coaches to holiday homes.
By 1935, the Great Western Railway offered 38 camping coaches
for hire in the West Country.
The carriages were placed in rural locations
to attract travellers who enjoyed the newly popular
countryside pursuits such as rambling.
How would you describe these holidays back in the '30s?
Were they more like being in a caravan park,
or were they more like being in a little exclusive cottage?
It was very exclusive.
You wouldn't be sharing with anyone, but you'd still have the features
of the main line being right next to you.
The Great Western Railway promised novel and comfortable accommodation,
and at £3 a week for a six-bed berth -
roughly the average weekly wage -
camping coaches were affordable for working-class holiday-makers.
NEWSREEL: This is life in a camping coach.
Specially fitted up for domestic occupation,
it's roomy and bright inside,
with everything laid on for Mother's comfort.
For hundreds of families, the camping coach is just the ticket
for a first-class holiday.
The popularity of such holidays fell rapidly during the 1960s,
but in recent years, refurbished carriages like Harvey
have made a comeback among rail enthusiasts.
Oh, my!
So the first thing I see is a radiator,
which I don't expect. Yes. Yes, modern day.
Nice and comfortable. Oh!
Yeah. That's all original, in there. Is it?
"Don't flush the toilet" sign above the toilet.
"Please do not use lavatory when train is at a station.
"Press lever to flush."
We'd better not use it, then.
Here we go.
And into the dining area.
Where we're not alone!
Hello! Well, hello. I'm Michael.
Hello, everybody. Hello.
Oh, this is cosy.
Ben is employed as a driver
on the nearby Lappa Valley Steam Railway,
and his passion for trains extends beyond his work.
He's brought his family on holiday to this camping coach.
Melissa, I don't know how you put up with all these steam buffs.
Do you have to be a steam buff to stay in a place like this?
No, you don't have to.
I wasn't a steam lover,
but now I am, being in a relationship with Ben.
And what's it like sleeping here?
I mean, obviously, it's cute, it's quaint, it's unusual.
But is it actually comfortable to stay here?
It is very comfortable.
You've got beds, which are comfy,
and these seats turn into beds as well.
What does Elliot like about it?
Does he get very excited when a train is coming?
Yes, definitely. He goes, "Quick, train's coming!"
He wants to be looking for the trains.
The carriage at Hayle
comes with its very own train-spotter's look-out.
This is really cute.
Yeah, you get the view of the viaduct,
which is the one that you've just come over. Yeah, yeah.
And over the station.
It's so exciting, Ben! It's great, isn't it?
It's going to Penzance now.
That is nice.
I'm travelling east, away from the glamour of the seaside.
Unemployment in the 1930s caused widespread poverty and misery.
Holiday-makers in Cornwall would probably not have paid much
attention to local social conditions,
which were made worse by poor infrastructure and services in that part of England that
"juts out like a huge boot into the Atlantic", in Bradshaw's words.
In Redruth, I hope to discover that, for many,
the best hope was, just as in the Victorian era,
philanthropy from those who've done well for themselves.
Copper and tin mining brought wealth and employment to Cornwall
in the 18th and 19th centuries.
At its peak, copper mining provided jobs for around
a third of the county's male workforce.
But by the 1930s, the industry had all but disappeared.
This bronze is a tribute to the achievement
of Redruth miners.
He carries his pick in his right hand.
The tin that he's won from the earth is carried
unnaturally behind him
because the tin passed into history,
and the prosperity was lost to Cornwall.
When cheap deposits of tin and copper were discovered
in the Americas and Southeast Asia,
Cornish mines closed
and many miners emigrated.
St Day, two miles outside Redruth,
was one of the villages to suffer at the time of my guidebook,
but received help from a philanthropist
called WJ Mills.
Lizzie Wilson is his descendant.
My great-grandfather, William John Mills, was born here
and left in his early 20s,
went up to Tiverton, where he built a dairy factory
and became one of the leading dairies in the West Country.
So he made a great deal of money,
and when he learned about the plight in St Day,
he decided to do something to help.
So he bought these 28 houses
and he reconditioned them
and offered them to the poor, rent-free.
After the First World War,
the government promised homes fit for heroes,
acknowledging the nation's responsibility
to supply decent housing.
But in areas like rural Cornwall,
it fell to charitable people such as William John Mills
to provide an alternative to the slums.
The houses are maintained to this day
by the WJ Mills Cottages Trust.
It's called Mills Street.
That must not be a coincidence, I suppose.
Well, it was called Simmons Street when he bought it.
And then, three years later, on Feast Day in 1933,
the street was renamed Mills Street in his honour.
And there's a plaque up there which is dedicated to that.
The St Day Feast has its origins in the medieval period.
But in the 1930s, the festivities became associated with WJ Mills.
In 1933, 400 residents gathered to acknowledge his contribution,
unveiling a bust of him on the new playing field
that he had purchased for the community.
Feast Day happens every year.
It's Feast Day today. The bunting is up.
My great-grandfather gave some money to a benevolent fund,
which also, on Feast Day, gives all the children between five and 15 -
in those days, it was a shilling, a bottle of pop and a saffron bun -
and all the elderly over 65 have a free tea in the marquee.
Whoopee!
Does it only apply to local people? Not, it doesn't.
The benevolent fund still hands out these gifts today.
In search of my pensioner's perk, I'm joining the celebrations.
BAND PLAYS
Continuing the tradition begun in the '30s,
the residents process through the village,
Before a fete takes place on the St Day playing field.
Stanley, what's your first memory of Feast Day?
Yeah. 1934, I had my first saffron bun,
and one new shilling.
1934 is quite a long time ago. Yeah.
Have you come back each year?
I missed last year because I wasn't well,
but I said I'd try to come back this year.
You don't qualify for the silver shilling any more!
No, no, no.
I'm gone 90.
Ah. Yes!
So I don't qualify.
I think you ought to get a gold sovereign for that.
Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.
Thank you very much! All the best.
Sue, what on earth is this?
It's a Cornish saffron bun.
I thought it might be. Yes, you can see the saffron when you...
Yeah, it's good and yellow, isn't it? Yes.
Mm.
Where do you live, Sue?
I live in Mills Street. Oh!
Tell me about Mills Street.
I've lived there for 11 years.
Very nice place to live.
You're well looked after by the trust.
When I first heard about WJ Mills giving out saffron buns,
it sounded fairly generous to me.
But that was before I knew... How big the bun was!
..how big the bun was!
I know!
This was once one of the richest mining districts in the world,
but the discovery of vast mineral deposits in the Americas
put it out of business, and thousands of miners emigrated.
The poverty of these parts which moved William John Mills
was a far cry from that beachy Cornwall visited by society
artists and writers.
But the two worlds came together
when the lowly mariner-turned-painter
Alfred Wallis was briefly born aloft
on a wave of metropolitan admiration.
Although he died a pauper.
One thing that hasn't changed is that the Cornish Riviera
is still favoured by the smart and artistic sets.
Next time, I wrestle with an ancient sport...
That was fairly easily done, wasn't it?
..take flight back to the 1930s...
Are you telling me they took people on aerobatic trips?
Absolutely, yes!
Rolls, loops, all sorts of things,
often without the passengers strapped in.
..and prepare to catch a wave...
Is this the most elegant pose I've ever been in?
..but end up all at sea.