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The polite flag of revolution was raised in Yoakley Road on Sunday 24
June. Residents and friends of the Morry Levy Memorial Garden met in force to protest
against its closure and sell-off by Hackney Council. Only a few verbal shots were fired
before the ramparts of bureaucracy at the Town Hall were over-run. Surrender followed
swiftly.
The paved-over garden, named after a former Councillor, with a few benches and
vine-covered walls at the Church Street end, was up for auction on 5 July as part of the
Council’s policy of flogging off any spare land or buildings to raise cash. They have
handed over the survey of what appears to be disposable to a firm of estate agents, Nelson
Bakewell, and had rubber stamped their proposal to sell this small, but prime, piece of
space to the highest bidder. They had reckoned without the determination and
organisational abilities of local people who were angry that they had not been consulted.
Over 800 signatures to a petition against the sale were gathered in less than a week.
Children’s drawings and paintings provided a colourful backdrop to the speeches. One
said: ‘The Morry Levy Garden is our happiness. Don’t sell off what money
can’t
buy.’ Another kid, with an eye for social realism, had drawn a bench with two
characters downing cans of lager. ‘Save our drunks’ was the caption.
Almost on cue, the gathering was joined by what appeared to be two regular patrons of
the garden. Swaying slightly, and clutching a can apiece, they arrived just as a symbolic
tree (snake bark maple) was being planted. ‘Save the tree!’, they shouted.
‘No, it’s save the garden’, an organiser corrected them. Councillors who
had nodded through the proposals had obviously realised what was happening (elections take
place early next year) and scrambled on board the bandwagon of popular revolt: To his
credit, Jules Pipe, Council leader, turned up and was astute enough to realise that he and
his colleagues were on a good hiding to nothing. He gave an undertaking that the garden
would not be sold and would remain as a public space. His commitment was greeted by
delighted cheers. However, the nagging question remains: what would have happened if
people had not figured out in time what was happening?
Surely it’s the job of our elected representatives to let us know of any such
proposals. It’s also about time - now there’s no longer a hung Council - that
they exerted their authority over Council officials and, if necessary, the Managing
Director of the Council.
PS. We know very little about Morry Levy. Can readers let us have any
information?
FOOLS RUSH IN
So, you’ve got the money together, the bank’s been helpful, you and your
partner have some brilliant ideas. There’s an empty property on Church Street which,
with bit of work, can be transformed into a new shop or restaurant.
It’s all plain sailing, then? Not quite. There’s a little something called
planning permission. Oh, you mean the Council? Yes, but the rules have been drawn up by
the Department of the Environment. Within those rules, Hackney can grant or refuse
permission for the types of outlets they consider appropriate. You mean if I buy the
derelict newsagent’s premises, I can’t just turn it into a wine and oyster bar?
Exactly, you have to get the OK from the Council.
Why? Because they don’t want shops that supply basic necessities driven out. Bit late
for that in Church Street, isn’t it? Er, well, that’s not the point, the Council
still tries to keep 50 per cent of the shops in A1 use. What’s A1, apart from a road
to the north?
It goes like this. For planning purposes, every building is assigned to one of several
‘use classes’. Shops of all kinds fall into Use Class A.
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Class A1 is the type of shop you would find in a normal high
street: hairdressers, greengrocers, butchers, bakers, post offices, travel agencies and
the rest. It also includes funeral directors, pet shops, sandwich bars and, believe it or
not, tripe shops but does not include snack bars and hot food take-aways.
Class A2 is financial and professional services. This includes estate
agents, betting shops and banks. In theory, it was established to give local authorities
control over the proliferation of estate agents, although you wouldn’t know it by
looking at Church Street.
Class A3 - food and drink - is the really controversial one, particularly
in Church Street. Many existing local restaurateurs oppose the granting of A3 permission
to new food outlets, including take-aways. A case of ‘pull up the ladder, Jack,
I’m alright’ is it? Perhaps, to some extent, but there is genuine concern that
the street is over-crowded with eating joints, allegedly at the expense of small, useful
A1 type shops.
New buildings are straightforward, you just apply for the class you need, depending on
what you want to sell. But in Church Street it’s mostly existing premises that are up
for grabs and ‘change of use’ permission is often required. All changes between
classes technically require permission but because the Council supports the policy of
trying to defend 50 per cent Al use, you may find it easier to get permission to move from
A3
or A2 to A1. A3 restaurants are also likely to meet opposition from residents on
amenity grounds; smells and fumes from cooking for example. Is that clear?
Very. You said that tripe shops are A1. Well, forget the oyster bar and let’s talk
tripe. I’ll
set up a trendy outlet called Les Tripes de Ia rue de I’EgIise, no Council permission
required, right? Could be a nice little earner.
Great idea. Stokey folk will love it. They’ll swallow anything. |
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