There are several
mentions of 'The Big Fire of
1974' at Butlins Skegness on the Internet - few, if any, of which are
accurate.
Now you can get the facts, as I was actually in charge of the Princes
Ballroom
when it went up.
At 2-15pm on
Wednesday 5th June 1974, myself (Redcoat
IC), and Steve Johnson (Camp Compere), began the 'Miss
Personality
Competition' in the Princes Ballroom. This was followed at
4.15pm
by the 'Modern Miss Competition,'
for which Steve and I stayed
on. During this, a guest approached me and told me that there was smoke
coming
out of the top of the escalator. Thinking it was overheating I
immediately
switched it off and put another Redcoat, Sylvia, on station duty there,
to
stop people from using it. I then broke the code of interrupting the
Compere
during a competition, and whispered in his ear to wrap the competition
up
quickly, and to announce that everyone must leave immediately by the
stairs
at the other end of the ballroom.
MISS PERSONALITY COMPETITION
On the left is me, Alan J. Marriot. On the right is compere Steve
Johnson.
Possibly the last photograph ever taken in the Princes Ballroom. Within an hour of this photo being taken, the Princes
Ballroom had gone.
Within five weeks, Steve and I had also gone.Nothing is
indispensable.
(Photo by the Butlins Skegness Resident
Photographer 1974.)
Steve didn't know
exactly what was going at this
stage, but he knew me well enough to respect my decision, and carried
out
my request. The guests did just what was asked of them, and vacated the
premises
in record time. By this time, the amount of smoke issuing from the
escalator
was increasing by the minute. Steve and I split up and ran into the
Ladies
and Gents toilets to warn anyone who might be in there to pull their
pants
up and get out. We next went to the bars and warned the staff that
they,
too, must vacate. We then spotted the cleaner sat in among the row of
chairs
around the ballroom floor. 'What are you doing here,' I asked. 'I'm
waiting
for everyone to leave, then I can clean the ballroom floor.' I told
him,
in no uncertain terms, that that wasn't a sensible thing to do - so he
reluctantly left.
Satisfied that
everyone was now clear of the upper
part of the Princes Complex, Steve and I prepared to make our own exit
when,
without warning, there was an almighty explosion, which blew an
enormous
hole in the ballroom floor. So much for staying behind to clean it.
THE
PRINCES
BALLROOM
Hundreds of thousands of holidaymakers had danced on this floor, but it
all came to a tragic end on the afternoon of 5th June
1974 when a huge explosion ripped the
heart out of it.
(Real Butlin's Photograph)
And directly
under the Princes Ballroom was the exotic Beachcomber Bar.
It was in the kitchens of the Beachcomber Chinese Restaurant that the
fire started.
Having negotiated
the stairs quicker than a cannonball
being dropped from the upstairs window, we reached the street outside.
However,
our job wasn't over, as we next had to make sure that no-one was in the
downstairs premises:- the Amusement Arcade, The Beachcomber Bar and
Restaurant,
and the Cafe.
Two of the girls
from the cafe were hysterical,
as an older lady who worked with them was trapped behind the cafe door.
It
was hinged to open inwards but the pressure, caused by the heat and
smoke,
was jamming it shut. Steve and I jointly kicked it, and kicked it
again,
until the lady behind it managed to stagger out during the split second
it
stayed open before slamming shut again. Thankfully that was the nearest it got
to there
being any casualties.
Here is the
external view of the Princes Building,
before the fire wiped it from the picture.
(1973 postcard - John Hinde Ltd.)
And there it
was - GONE!
The green is where the Princes Ballroom used to stand.
(1976 postcard - John Hinde Studios)
We then spent
considerable energy encouraging
everyone to move back from the building, which was now well alight. The
windows
had shattered with the heat, and flames were licking through the vacant
frames.
The speed of the fire, and the heat it generated, was incredible. The
asbestos
roof was just "popping," and pieces were flying everywhere (The
following
day we found pieces of it on the Sportsfield, which was about
half-a-mile
away). Twenty minutes later the massive complex was just a tangled
wreck
of twisted metal girders. Cue the sound of approaching fire engines.
Within minutes
of us leaving,
the whole complex was well ablaze.
Just
twenty-minutes later the massive complex was just
a tangled wreck of twisted metal girders.
Actual footage of the fire
THE AFTERMATH
The following
morning when we went to survey the
damage, we couldn't believe what we saw. During the night an 8ft. high
ply-board
fence had been erected, and now surrounded the whole site. By lunchtime
the
fence had been painted green, to blend in. The instructions from the
management
had overtones of the Fawlty Towers sketch 'The Germans' - only
here,
the message was: 'Don't mention the fire.' All the Cabaret acts who had
been
booked to appear at the camp during the coming weeks were told that, if
they
did any gags about the fire, their contracts would be instantly
terminated.
None did.
The frontage of the
Radio Butlin building had
been caught by the fire, and had put the Tannoy system out of action.
So,
at 7-30am, a large possee of Redcoats had to walk up and down the
Chalet
lines, knocking on doors to wake people for breakfast. We weren't the
only
ones who weren't pleased at having to get up at that early hour. In
fact,
over half of the guests didn't want waking up, as they were scheduled
for
second-sitting at 9-30. Most made their feelings known with phrases
beginning
with 'f' - and it wasn't 'fanks.'
To make up for the
missing Ballroom and Bars,
the Ingoldmells Hotel, which was just outside the fence,
was
brought inside the fence, by moving the fence. All the
events
scheduled for the Princes Ballroom were then shared out between the
Empress
Ballroom, the Queen's Showbar, and the Ingoldmells building.
The speed and
thought which went into continuing
as if nothing had happened was faultless, and a text book lesson to
all.
As for myself and Steve Johnson, within five weeks we both left
Skegness.
The commendation we got for handling the situation never materialised -
not
even so much as a "fank you." Such is Butlins. Bring on the next
recruits.
When I worked at Skeggy in 1973 and '74, the
Ingoldmells Hotel was outside the Camp's perimeter fence,
and was used almost exclusively as a drinking trough for the Butlins
staff - who weren't allowed to drink on site.
But then, after the fire, the fence was moved to bring it inside.
The postcard on the left clearly shows the
Security men's hut, half-way down the side of Ingoldmells, next to
which was the security gate and fence.
This room in
the Ingoldmells Hotel became an entertainment venue, to hold
some of the guests who had been displaced by the loss of the Princes
building.