Once upon a time, there were only two television stations in the whole of the kingdom.
One was a stalwart British institution, the BBC, with a pedigree stretching back to 1936; and the other was a young upstart, the Independent Television Service, a series of regional companies who ran telly for the people and paid for it with advertisements.
The Pilkington Report into the whole two-channel business concluded that Independent Television was a most frightful oik, and that a much more cultural third channel must be launched with all speed.
At which point, BBC Two became a twinkle in the eye of some top executives at the British Broadcasting Corporation.
The first night of BBC Two was to be a veritable banquet of viewing: it would start with hit comedy The Alberts, continue with Soviet comedian Arkady Raikin, moving onto a slap-up production of Cole Porter’s Kiss Me Kate, concluding finally with a splendid firework display.
The country waited, armchairs at the ready.
But on April 20, 1964, 35 minutes before the lights were set to go up on a new cultural era in the televisual history of Britain, calamity struck.
The calamity was nowhere near the BBC. In fact, it was quite a distance down the Thames at Battersea.
The behemoth of a power station, that upside-down ogre’s dining table reclining on the edge of the Thames, was on fire.
And all of the BBC – indeed, much of West London and its little television sets – lost power.
It was time to light a candle in the window, pour a large glass of ale and issue various profanities in the direction of the Central Electricity Generating Board. Viewing was not forthcoming until the next day, and a gloomy evening was had by all.
Electricity had long since ceased to become a luxury by the sixties: it was a necessity now.
Way back when generators were young, and up until 1933, electricity was a local affair. A company, or group of companies, would make enough for its concerns and a little bit more, with the surplus going out to private homes.
But a growing demand from the public dictated the piecemeal approach could not continue. By 1925 Parliament was championing a unified grid, and the London Power Company was born.
Nobody wanted its power station at Battersea. Everyone said it would be an eyesore. And so the company made a clever move: they hired an aesthete to design a stunning work of art deco. Sir Giles Gilbert Scott gave us the red telephone box and Liverpool Cathedral, and he designed a building which looked monumental, housing A Station (1935) and B Station (1953-5).
The twin stations belied their permanent exterior, and before 50 years were out, both were closed due to ageing generating equipment and falling output.
But the biggest brick-built structure in Europe was already a national heritage site with grade II listed status, despite its ‘very bad’ condition, noted by English Heritage. Its roof was taken off in preparation for a theme park which never was. It has been the backdrop for the Beatles in ‘Help’ and an album cover for Pink Floyd.
It is, simply, an icon.
My children love it and its sister station at Bankside which has become the Tate Modern. This morning I was pottering around with packed lunches and toast and became aware they were plotting to win the lottery and convert Battersea themselves.
What, Felix suggested , about a massive rubbish dump? A great location you could just fill up?
No, said Maddie, far too smelly.
“It could be a huge activity centre where you could go and walk across rope bridges and stuff,” ventured Maddie.
Felix shuddered. He had watched Helen Skelton walking the high wire at Battersea, and he wasn’t enamoured of the idea.
His face lit up. “I know!” he rejoined. “One great big huge sushi bar! You could have a conveyor belt of sushi going all round the side and people could just sit and take off what they wanted and it would be enormous!”
My mind boggled slightly before settling back into the morning routine. You’ve got to acknowledge one thing about Felix: he thinks big.
Just up river at the Millennium Bridge sits Sir Giles Gilbert Scott’s other behemoth: The Tate Modern, formerly Bankside, has just announced plans to open even more of its vast spaces to the public.
Its generator hall stood empty when we last saw it: just huge emptiness, grey monumentalism. Size for size’s vast sake.
Two oil tanks just behind the main station will be refurbished ready for 2012, it seems.
Costing £215 million- of which 70 per cent has already been raised – the project will open up new and exciting art space, organisers say. And ten new floors will be built above to house yet more ground-breaking art.
The Tate tweeted the news last week and I read it to the kids.
“Oh, that’s just great,” chortled Maddie, “What the Tate Modern really needs is more space….”
Kate Shrewsday 
Now I have 246 channels and there is nothing worth watching. Even the mundane weather station is better than most.
I feel just the same, Carl. Water, water everywhere…
Amen, Carl. We have even more and if it weren’t for PBS I don’t think I’d even own a set. (well, of course, I do love Turner Classic).
Our Film4 – the channel 4 film service-is fantastic. I wonder if they syndicate out there?
NOT content to accept status quo
Maddie and Felix give it a go
They take the box and twist it about
After a bit of a shake, they stand and shout!
Ahoy! Aha! Why don’t we renovate?
And transform Battersea into a 2nd Tate?
We’ll serve sushi to people as they sit . . .
Well, by George, I think they’ve got it!
LOL! Nancy, that’s amazing: our own personal Battersea transformation poem. That’ll liven up breakfast tomorrow! Thank you so much!
Ha! Love Maddie and Felix’s ideas, and their response to the Tate even more. Felix might like the exhibit currently at the Art Institute of Chicago that I’m just dying to see. It is a very large tapestry woven from the threads “milked” from one million spiders. It looks beautiful and I am, for some strange reason, fascinated by it and interested in the videos I’m sure accompany it on how it was all done.
Oh, now I must see it! What an amazing thing. I’ve always been amazed at what a silkworm can do, but a spiderweb tapestry. Thanks for the heads-up on that one!
I love eavesdropping on their mental meandering! 😀
One is never short of material here, Nancy. They’ll love this, though.
Thanks, Kate! I hope so. Nothing like starting the day on a happy note. 😀
I love to see kids (of all ages) thinking outside the box . . . or creating a better box entirely.
The reality is so much duller, Nancy: the power station is about to be converted into a gargantuan apartment complex.
Kate, there is more information at http://www.artic.edu/aic/exhibitions/exhibition/spidersilk and a video you can click on to. Bear through the first part and then you can see the milking and weaving. It looks the exhibit is next going to the Royal Albert and Victoria, January, 2012.
Thanks Penny! How exciting!
As an American Anglophile, I loved this post. The Tate Modern is one of my favorite buildings in London, and I didn’t know the backstory. (I am married to an Architect, so the Story starts with the worship of the Architects who were commissioned to adaptively reuse the space.) So, thank you for enlightening me.
Fascinating the way the minds children work. Sometimes, I find myself wandering into the (to me) absurd, and it is a release to reconnect with that childlike imagination again.
It’s one of the nicest things to start and end the day with this kind of babble, Andra. A bit lateral, a bit off the wall, but it does hep with the work-life balance.
Stephane Daury reblogged this from Stephane's Sandbox.
your kids conversations are remarkably sophisticated. i just love it
They are young for their age in so many ways: each still has a favourite cuddly toy. But I think they’ve grown up thinking laterally, and now they surprise me every day.
I enjoyed eavesdropping on Felix and Maddie. Thank you.
As a child I went to the funfair in Battersea Power Station and there was this cylindrical room you went into which spun and the floor sank down and you were pinioned against the walls. But to my horror, my pocket money was spun out of my pocket! Can’t remember anything else about the day!
Traumatic memories, Earlybird! O wonder if there was someone underneath the cylinder with a big sack , profiting from all the little children’s pennies?
Sounds like it’s time for another Shrewsday campaign…
I think I might leave Battersea to someone else. Besides, when I make my millions I’d love a Thamesside apartment in an art deco brick built masterpiece 😀
I never knew any of that stuff. Your kids are smarter than I am.
All they know is, what it looks like and what a sushi bar is…other ideas include a massive Vue cinema and another Bluewater. The sushi bar made me giggle uncontrollably though.
Smarter than me?
Utterly impossible, Tilly. Mirror, Mirror of them all, Tilly is the smartest of them all. Sod Snow White.
Really smart children 🙂
😀
Love the way you take ordinary and create extraordinary. Not only did I not know the backstory, but it was ALL new to me. I must say that as an American television consumer, were it not for BBC America, PBS and now I’m hooked on a variety of British sitcoms delivered via Netflix, I’d be entirely off the television grid. I’d rather read posts like yours any day, Kate 🙂 And Amen to the smart children observations! Debra
Thanks Debra. The more channels the less the choice it seems….
When I was young my family looked down their noses at ITV, so we were a BBC family and watched Blue Peter, not Magpie. Now consider the choices available – and our TV stands in the corner switched off most of the time.
The Tate modern is a fantastic space…. but maybe I’m with Maddie here: “what ? it needs MORE?”
We were like you, Pseu. Blue Peter to the core. And out telly doesn’t get much air time either….
An interesting history lesson. My father worked for the BBC in TV in the early days. He transferred to ITV in its infancy because there was no hope of advancement – everything was very tightly controlled (handshakewise) and there was no interest in technical improvement. He was an engineer through and through, and under his guidance ITV pioneered all live outdoor sport including golf and tennis. He also ‘engineered’ the first play to be televised live outside. It has now gone down into the annals of history (The Bridge) and is discussed fondly by technophobes.
In spite of that we hardly watched TV, except when my father had to do a ‘report’, so I can’t comment on the standard of programmes. Now? It’s hardly on, I just love silence.
What a wonderful background! To have a father who crossed that early divide, from BBC to ITV, and then to achieve firsts in outdoor sport and drama! Thank you for this – a great illustration of why comments are so vital to enrich an original post. I’m off to try and find a copy of The Bridge…
I actually have a copy of the original TV script. It’s complete with my dad’s notations and comments.
Oh goody. I’m so glad the TM is making new space. I have a magnificent work of art for them. It will be called ‘Cleanout’. What I propose is to fling each bit of precious but useless junk out of my garage as hard as I can. The result must be reconstructed, correct to the millimetre in placement.
I think the most interesting part of the TM is the building!
I know. Arresting, isn’t it? And still its poor relative down the river languishes, waiting for deliverance, listed but listing. Poor old Battersea.