Nostalgia: The city's port was distinctive by its array of scents and the buzz of activity by the shore

Published on Saturday 10 July 2010 13:53

Frank Ferri, 74, reflects on the sounds and smells of Leith in the 1940s and 1950s, and how they compare to modern day sounds and smells. The grandfather-of-six lived in Leith from 1935 to 1958 and is a former pupil of St Mary's Primary and St Anthony's Secondary. He has stayed in Newhaven since 1959.

LEITH, historically, was always a heavily industrialised area. You would wake up to the early morning chinking sounds of the milk boys' glass bottles knocking against one another whilst delivering your daily pint, or the clip clop of the Clydesdale horse hauling the coal man's coal delivery. Then the first real major sound of the day was that of the city waking up to a cacophony of noises created by the assortment of sirens, whistles and horns emitting from factories all over Leith.

Ballantyne Road, where I lived as a boy, was surrounded by industry. At the bottom of the street you had noise pollution, from the high-pitched sound of the sawmill's saw cutting through timber, to the banging of tools emitting from the cooperage and Browns, the yacht repair shipyard. You could even detect the fragrant smell of chocolate from Duncan's confectionery all the way from Beaverhall Road, and the intoxicating strong tinge of alcohol wafting from the whiskey bond of VAT 69 in West Bowling Green Street.

The news vendor selling his newspapers at Leith Central railway station doorway, at the foot of Leith Walk, would shout "Dispatcha News, git yir Dispatcha News here", meaning the Dispatch and Evening News.

Then there was the shouting of children who had spotted a bride going into a church, with the kids shouting, "poor oot, poor oot" – an encouragement for the groom and best man to throw pennies amongst them.

The streets then were always crowded and vibrant with sounds of children at play, participating in football, cricket, peevers, skipping ropes, marbles, peeries, hide and seek, or emulating and re-enacting the actions of some hero from a movie they'd just seen.

At 10am on Sundays you heard the church bells coming from all directions, or the Salvation Army's silver band from their HQ at Bangor Road.

North Junction Street and other major roads were busy with heavy lorries and horse-drawn traffic catering for the flour mill that was once in that area, but burned down in a great fire.

There was an assortment of heavy vehicles to-ing and fro-ing from the docks, not to forget the clunking and clanging of the tramcars.

As you arrived at the Shore and Commercial Street, you became aware of the familiar smells from the abundance of whisky bonds in this area, and not far from here in Elbe Street, the mouth-watering smells of fresh baking from Crawford's biscuit factory.

Entering the docks you were witness to a real hub of industry and met by the full orchestra of sound – the complete symphony of Leith. There were hundreds of dockers shouting instructions as they loaded and unloaded ships.

The amalgam of sounds from welders and the hammering of steel against steel by riveters binding metal plates together came from Henry Robb's and Menzie's shipyards.

To the far eastern side of the docks was the sulphur processing plant, with its acrid smell.The odour of red lead paint being applied to the hull of ships hung in the air.

Back up from the Shore and into Tollbooth Wynd, and linking up with the old Kirkgate – this was the shopping hub of Leith up to the 1950s.

There was a pleasant smell of coffee beans and other fresh produce emitting from the independent grocery stores, before the days of supermarkets and pre-packed goods.

Great Junction street was the same but bigger. Once again you got the waft of alcohol from Crabbie's distillers, plus this was another hub of shopping.

Easter Road was another centre of activity with its concentration of shops, where in halcyon days you frequently heard the roar from football fans at the Hibernian stadium.

Even the Water of Leith had its own distinct smell when the tide was out.

The strong smell of hops from the beer as you passed a public house was enough to knock you off your feet, but that was when people drank real ale.

The overwhelming smells of fish, the smoking of herring from Kelly's fish processing plant and the sea announced you had just entered Newhaven, which at one time had a very busy fish market.

The docks and industrial streets of Leith now lie silent, replaced by the Scottish Office building, flats, wine bars and a shopping mall. Dock cranes now stand alongside the quay like petrified dinosaurs. Leith's industrial orchestra has played its last symphony.