The grandest of exhibitions

ANYONE daring to make the suggestion these days would be laughed out of town: spend a fortune building a massive exhibition centre on a scale never before seen in the Capital, then, just a few months later, tear it down again.

But that's what our city forefathers did, not once, but twice in a little over two decades.

And these were not simple halls, built on the cheap. They were grand, beautifully-designed, flamboyant structures, with attention to detail seldom seen today.

They sprawled over two of Edinburgh's favourite green spaces, attracting tens of thousands of visitors every day, drawn first to the Meadows for the International Exhibition in 1886 and then to Saughton Park for the Scottish National Exhibition in 1908, by a vast array of educational exhibitions, quirky displays, fairground thrills and diverse entertainment.

For two summers, each massive exhibition thrilled visitors who travelled from far and wide to see groundbreaking displays of modern techniques in industry, science and art.

The grandest of the two by far was the earlier International Exhibition of Industry, Science and Art, largely enclosed inside an imposing Victorian domed structure that covered 25 acres of the West Meadows and could hold 10,000 people at a time.

Through its main entrance at Brougham Place, visitors were guided to a range of double courts with at least 15 separate sections devoted to everything from the latest mode of transport - tramways - to pottery, from "women's work" displays of embroidery to chemistry.

Displays jostled for visitors' attention alongside dozens of statues, a Grand Organ and orchestra platform, food and drink sellers and traders showing every possible kind of product: Princes Street store Jenners offered a case of handmade outfits, including a silk dinner dress adorned with pearls and metal beads; Edinburgh firm Stuart & Co unveiled their new concrete, granolithic, by using it to produce two 22ft high Corinthian columns; while an Inverness exhibitor showed off a Victorian version of wall insulation. "It is impervious to damp and rats and mice are unable to eat through it," explained one report of the exhibition.

There were 2000 paintings hung alongside a replica Grecian temple, its pillars and steps covered in the newfangled linoleum from Kirkcaldy, and a 250ft-long railway complete with four locomotives and tenders.

Outside was a full-size house fitted with the very latest gadgets and fixtures - gas lamps, ventilating tubes and free-standing cast iron baths and a single tram track that ferried visitors the length of the Meadows.

The crowds - which on some high summer days numbered as many as 30,000 - were blasted with sights, sounds and smells at every turn from 20,000 exhibits illustrating the "material progress of the age".

But it was the replica 17th century Edinburgh street scenes that must have been the most striking. "The street was entered through a replica of the Netherbow Port and the buildings were arranged to form a street typical of old Edinburgh with a short High Street, market place, Mercat Cross, two closes and a copy of the Old Tollbooth," says Edinburgh historian Jack Gillon, who writes about the exhibition in his book Eccentric Edinburgh.

"The ground floors were laid out as 44 shops and workshops in which attendants dressed in 17th century costumes sold souvenirs of the exhibition."

The exhibition closed after just six months, by which time some 2.7 million people had made their way to the Meadows. "The Exhibition has been literally the biggest, most tempting and most successful show we have ever had in our midst," summed up one report of the closing days.

Soon it would be a distant memory. The grand hall, the massive pavilion, the tram track and the laboriously-recreated streets were dismantled and the Meadows returned to its green, open space as required by an Act of Parliament.

Some evidence of it remains though. The Prince Albert sundial still stands in the West Meadows, the 26ft-high memorial pillars at the west end of Melville Drive, and the whale jawbone arch at the junction of Jawbone Walk with Melville Drive, which was given to the city by the Zetland and Fair Isle Knitting stand.

The 1908 Scottish National Exhibition was on a slightly lesser scale but equally breathtaking.

Where else could Edwardian Edinburgh folk possibly hope to visit a Senegalese native village, ride on a roller coaster, learn about sewage and then relax at Van Houten's Cocoa Pavilion with a cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit?

The exhibition was laid out on the garden ground of Saughton Hall Mansion, west of Balgreen Road, on an area now used as Saughton Rose Gardens and Saughton Public Park.

Edwardian visitors, many transported to the exhibition thanks to a new railway connection with Waverley Station, had plenty of choices on offer: the Palace of Industries, a 100,000sq ft pavilion with two 125ft ornamental towers, packed with exhibits from around the world; the Machinery Hall with displays of printing, shipping, electricity, sewage disposal, or the Fine Art Galleries, housing the best of Scottish art.

But perhaps the most visited "exhibit" was the Senegalese village, where 70 natives of French Senegal - and their children - lived in bee-hive huts beneath a line of trees.

There they showed off their skills as goldsmiths, wavers, musicians and dancers to a fascinated public, gradually adding layers to their scant outfits as the summer months turned to autumn.

Not everyone welcomed the natives with open arms, however, as was clear in one letter to The Scotsman, penned by J Stiggins. "It would appear that we have now encamped in the heart of Christian Scotland a hundred black heathens from French Senegal who are displaying their native industries and their native costumes including the practice of polygamy and the use of heathen religious rites," he wrote.

Like its predecessor, the Scottish National Exhibition was a massive success - with more than 3.5 million visitors - but the final celebrations were soured thanks to drunken yobs, with trouble breaking out when the bar was shut half an hour early.

"At the bandstand policemen were forced to raise their batons as youths pitched in with chairs and music stands," recalls historian Malcolm Cant.

It was a less than glorious conclusion to what had been a resounding success.

Soon, demolition teams would dismantle an exhibition site that had taken 1000 men many months to erect, leaving just the Winter Garden on Balgreen Road.

Further reading: Eccentric Edinburgh by JK Gillon is published by Moubray House Publishing. Marchmont in Edinburgh by Malcolm Cant's is published by John Donald. Edinburgh: Gorgie and Dalry, also by Malcolm Cant, is published by Malcolm Cant Publishing.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

THERE was no shortage of street entertainment for our forefathers, in a city that would go on to be known the world over for its festivals.

One of the best known 19th century showmen was NED HOLT. He abandoned his apprenticeship with a baker to earn a crust as an actor playing in the penny gaff, usually staggering home to his room at the White Horse Inn.

His claim to fame - long before Ozzy Osbourne - was the ability to kill rats with his teeth. Visitors to his Grassmarket booth were also able to oogle at the Fat Lady, a "living" skeleton and, the star of his show, a petrified 1000-year-old mummy.

It cost a penny for a look, but it's unlikely anyone was offered a refund when Holt eventually confessed it was a fake - a skeleton bought for a few pennies and covered with rubber and bark from a local tannery.

Not all entertainers were seeking money under false pretences. A mysterious Victorian lady - dubbed The Nightingale - serenaded New Town residents into the night, a dark veil draped over her face to conceal her identity.

Rumoured to be an opera singer, she turned out to be KATE POWELL, a convent educated teacher fluent in four languages who began her career after the death of her husband in 1890.

"Cocky nit, cocky nit, a ha'penny the bit, bit, bit" was a common cry that echoed around Edinburgh in the mid-19th century. Coconut Tam, THOMAS SIMPSON, was a small bent chap who always wore a bowler hat as he strolled the streets peddling sweets, ice-cream, gingerbread and, naturally, coconut. His character is now being revived, thanks to Father Ted's Ardal O'Hanlon who plays Coconut Tam in the newly released film, The Adventures of Greyfriars Bobby.

The first Eskimo to visit Scotland, JOHN SAKEOUSE, below, was 18 when he arrived in Leith in August 1816, stepping off the Greenland whaler, the Thomas and Anne.

Claiming to want to learn English and become a missionary, he soon became a figure of immense interest, giving exhibition of "several feats of dexterity" using his harpoon which, according to reports of the time, resulted in the "greatest concourse of spectators ever known to have assembled in Leith".

Wearing native costume, he entertained onlookers by diving under the water, turning over his 16lb kayak and emerging, sitting in it. He also won a whale boat race against a six-man crew. He went on to join the Leith whaling ships as a guide and interpreter but died, tragically young in 1819.

Fishwives were a unique breed - none more so than MAGGIE DICKSON. She was hanged in 1724 for concealing the birth of a stillborn illegitimate child - in days when bearing a child out of wedlock led to public humiliation and shame.

Maggie went to the gallows proclaiming her innocence, but was duly hanged and declared dead.

Safely nailed inside her coffin for the journey to Inveresk, her friends stopped at an inn for refreshments, emerged and heard strange noises coming from the box. The lid was prised open, a vein was bled and some spirits poured down Maggie's throat.

By evening she had recovered enough to speak, next day she was up and about. Soon she was making a small living from accepting coins from curious locals who came to marvel at her. She became known as Half-hangit Maggie and lived to a ripe old age.

Appeared Edinburgh Evening News, 25th February 2006