Malcolm Barker: Reflections on the Humber of changing times and fortunes

It was quiet, very quiet, for no vessel, not so much as a dinghy, ruffled the surface of the river. The view commanded a 12-mile sweep of the estuary, from the Humber Bridge down to Saltend, and all that could be seen afloat was a buoy, rocking gently on a flowing tide. The river was empty, asleep.

This seemed extraordinary, startling even, for not very long ago this great stretch of water was one of the world's busiest maritime thoroughfares, and Hull ranked third among English ports. Victoria Pier itself was the departure point for steam-powered paddle steamers that maintained the New Holland ferry service, shuttling to and from the distant Lincolnshire shore, and carrying a million passengers a year. They made their last crossing in 1981, declared redundant with the opening of the Humber Bridge.

Docks extended for 12 miles on the Yorkshire side of the estuary, with a workforce of 4,000 men. In came timber, foodstuffs, and various raw materials. Out went Sheffield steel and West Riding coal among a vast range of manufactured goods from Yorkshire mills and factories.

Upstream was St Andrew's Dock, home of the greatest distant-water fishing fleet in the world. Sixty years ago, nearly 150 trawlers were registered in Hull, and as many as 145 steam locomotives were allotted to the dock-side Dairycotes engine shed to haul Hull fish to markets around the country.

Now everything has gone, St Andrew's Dock filled in, the trawlers to the wreckers' yards, and the imports and exports downstream to a container port based on Queen Elizabeth and Alexandra Docks. Coal is still handled in Hull, but it arrives in bulk from overseas and is whisked by rail to the power stations.

It is almost beyond belief that all this has come to pass within a lifetime. Hull now is into heritage in a big way and even has a "museum quarter", surely more by necessity than choice.

Across the River Hull from Victoria Pier, at the place where it empties into the Humber, The Deep raises its massive prow, a vast aquarium, or museum of the oceans. In the Hull basin is a trawler, now docked in perpetuity, a museum piece. High Street, where the merchants who built the city's wealth once had their homes, warehouses and wharves, runs parallel to the river, and here are more museums.

Yet another is the one-time nerve-centre of the city's waterfront, the wonderfully vainglorious Docks Offices, which were anchored in Venetian Renaissance style on a triangular site by the architect Christopher Wray in 1867-71. The building is now devoted to Hull's maritime history.

Thus, in what we are told is the post-industrial age, the heritage business flourishes. In the sad villages of the old South Yorkshire coalfield, or in the shadow of empty mills in the shoddy towns, it sometimes seems that heritage is all we have left, and perhaps the North of England should be fenced off somewhere near Watford Gap, with admission by turnstile only.

Thankfully, such thoughts may be banished, for there is also plenty of evidence that Yorkshire's grit and gumption may still prevail. Leeds has re-invented itself, surviving the loss of such traditional industries as made-to-measure clothing. The first public whiff of its forthcoming collapse came in the 1970s when a reporter, Graham Wiles of the Yorkshire Evening Post, heard that Montague Burton, which employed thousands at its factory in Hudson Road, was considering moving some of its production abroad. At the time, this was vehemently denied, but sure enough it came to pass.

Montague Burton, born in 1885, arrived in this country from Lithuania in 1900, and began selling ready-made suits in 1903. He eventually employed 10,000 people making 33,000 suits a week, and was knighted in 1931. When he died in 1952, he was famous as a philanthropist.

Victorian Yorkshire was rich in such men. In Hull, enormous contributions were made by the Wilson family, who became the world's biggest shipowners; the Priestman brothers, who developed the first oil engine long before Diesel; the Reckitts, who started making starch, washing blue and black lead in 1848, and matured as world leaders in pharmaceuticals; Rank's, flour millers; and Blundell's, paint manufacturers.

The geniuses behind such enterprises were legion, and did not restrict themselves to their native county. A Yorkshire farmer, John Bailey, moved from Normanton to Suffolk. In 1783, he and his wife had a son, Joseph. Young Joseph Bailey is reputed to have walked to Wales to join the iron industry, and by the time he died in 1858 he was Sir Joseph Bailey, Bart, whose enterprise at Nantyglo made him the richest ironmaster in the land. His grandson went one better and was raised to the peerage as Baron Glanusk.

Such men are as much part of our heritage as York Minister, or the great mill built at Saltaire by Sir Titus Salt, or the designs of the Sheffield master-craftsman David Mellor. They enriched themselves but they also provided a livelihood for tens of thousands of their fellow men and women. They saw opportunities and struck out bravely, needing neither state aid nor advice from a quango.

Where is their like today? Some brave souls in Hull are trying. The city tops the national "insolvency league" (Yorkshire Post, September 27), and while this is sad for those whose endeavours have foundered, it does indicate that a good number of would-be entrepreneurs are having a go; no attempts would mean no bankruptcies. Hull must hope some float successfully, and that their new businesses may reach financial waters as calm as the Humber on that September day.

Malcolm Barker is a former editor of the Yorkshire Evening Post.