A FEW weeks ago I a wrote a piece about the supposed location of a plague pit at the bottom of Angel Street in central Worcester, which brought a response from a reader asking why didn’t I do the same on the mystery wine vaults just west of High Street. 

But he doubted I would because of “the Masons and the clergy”. Seeing as I don’t roll my trousers up on ceremonial occasions nor attend church as often as I should, I feel pressure from neither quarter, so I’ll give it the best shot I can. 

As is often the case, there appears to be some fact and some fantasy about the whole shebang. The saga goes back to the 18th and early 19th centuries, before the coming of the railways, when the  Severn was one of the country’s great highways and Worcester a thriving inland port. 

Copenhagen Street leading down to the river  in 1909. All this went in a slum clearance programme and is now a car park

Copenhagen Street leading down to the river  in 1909. All this went in a slum clearance programme and is now a car park

It was commonplace to see more than a hundred sailing vessels tied up waiting for the water level to be right to get them under the bridge or over the shallows. However. thriving business inevitably attracts ne’erdowells out to beat the system and the city became a popular haunt for smugglers, who dealt in any commodity that would make them money, including drink.

HA Leicester’s 1935 book Worcester Remembered – yes, they were doing nostalgia stuff back then – records: “Smugglers found a happy home here for a considerable period and in the course of time they constructed an extensive cave in the neighbourhood of Birdport, which they approached through the narrow passage leading from South Quay, through the grounds of St Andrew’s church.” 

St Andrew’s Church and spire on Deansway The spire remains, but the church was demolished in 1949. There had been access through the church grounds to the smugglers’ cave

St Andrew’s Church and spire on Deansway The spire remains, but the church was demolished in 1949. There had been access through the church grounds to the smugglers’ cave

In those days Birdport and St Andrew’s were among the poorest parts of Worcester. A maze of narrow alleyways and tenement courts where the locals would happily turn a blind eye to or participate in any mischief. 

The old Bull and Sun pub in Bull Entry in 1937

The old Bull and Sun pub in Bull Entry in 1937

Leicester said the contraband goods were taken from the cave through Bull Entry to the main trading area of  the city, adding: “When some of the old houses were demolished in Birdport about 30 years ago (ie around 1900), the part of the cave was discovered extending under several buildings.” 

The infamous Wherry public house, a popular smugglers’ haunt, which later became St Andrew’s Parish Club for Men and Boys and then, seen here, St Andrew’s Institute

The infamous Wherry public house, a popular smugglers’ haunt, which later became St Andrew’s Parish Club for Men and Boys and then, seen here, St Andrew’s Institute

The cave, or vault, Leicester was referring to was most probably beneath the site of Worcester College of Technology, now the Heart of  England College, and had a series of cellars and passages leading to it from the Wherry Inn and other houses in Quay Street.

The exact size of the smugglers’ cave was never mapped, but it’s well known a number of premises in High Street have extensive cellars, which could easily have connected to it, so it must have been pretty seizable.

One of the many warehouses in the Quay Street area where goods brought up river were stored

One of the many warehouses in the Quay Street area where goods brought up river were stored

Where some confusion may have arisen is that one of Worcester’s best known wine merchants at one time had direct access to the quays so that goods could be brought up to their cellars. But this was a completely legit operation.

Likewise, no evidence has ever been found of those cellars having direct access to Worcester Cathedral, although as one Christmas celebration records the monks having marked the Good Lord’s birthday with a party during which “nine varieties of sticky wines and ales” were consumed, a quick route to the refreshment would have been handy.

HANDS up. Guilty as charged m’Lud. Brain fade last week. Been on holiday. Too much sun. In the piece about Worcester’s Newport Street bus station I wrote that it closed in the late Sixties, when it patently didn’t.

In fact I should have known better, because in a 2016 article I said myself it shut in 1992, when the terminus was moved under cover into the new Crowngate development.

As my old news editor would have grumbled: “Always check, Michael. Always check.”

So apologies to Gazza6 and Chris Sampson and all the rest who noticed but just kept quiet.

And above is the photo that illustrated the 2016 story featuring a couple of happy shoppers, which probably makes the place look even worse.