Arch Rivals

My blogpost yesterday about natural arches reminded me of some local unnatural arches and a fascinating piece of Buckinghamshire history.

Back in 1999 I took part in a writing competition organised by the now defunct booksellers Ottakar's. They were asking people to submit short essays and features about the towns in which they lived. The company would then sponsor a Local History Series of books. It was a great idea. And my submission for the High Wycombe volume made the cut.

My piece was called Arch Rivals and told the story of the various 'chair arches' erected in Wycombe throughout the years. Here's the article which will explain what I'm talking about (and it was written 22 years ago - mention of  'future prosperity' and petrol prices was not intentionally ironic!).

Arch Rivals 

'It's not healthy you know. Obsession, that is. Especially when it centres on inanimate objects.' 

Jake eyed the Millennium Arch with something like suspicion. 

‘What are you on about?' I asked. 

'Football, Star Trek. They're obsessions that I can sort-of understand', he said, raising a Spock-like eyebrow. It echoed the shape of the ten metre high arch above us. ‘But chairs? That's just weird.' 

'I'm not with you', I said. 

Jake pointed up at the structure above us; a skeleton of scaffolding under a skin of green boards and tarpaulins and supported on two sturdy legs. The legs were trousered with the bright, optimistic paintings of local students although some idiot had vandalised two of the pictures and torn off a third. Above the paintings were long 'shelves' upon which stood a variety of chairs and sofas: recliners and Windsors, cane-seated chairs,  carvers, armchairs, drawing-room, lounge, library, reading and rocking chairs, garden benches and chaise longues. There were nearly 200 in all. 

'A chair museum? A road called Parker Knoll Way? And now this,' said Jake, laughing. 'I'd call that obsession.' 

‘Not obsession. Tradition', I explained patiently. 'Wycombe has a tradition of building chair arches.’ 

Jake snorted. 

'I just thought you had posh scaffolders round here', he said. 'I can just imagine them up there, all yellow hard-hats and bum-cracks, sat in comfortable Chesterfields and Parker Knoll Recliners shouting, "Phwoooaarr!" at the ladies below.' 

'Har har', I said sarcastically. 

'I don't know', said Jake, shaking his head. ‘Millennium Domes, Millennium Wheels, Millennium Arches. Call me a cynic but what a waste of money! I mean, it's not even as if it is the real Millennium yet, is it?' 

'Ah, that old argument.' 

'It's not an argument. It's basic maths. You can't tick off a period of a thousand years until the end of the thousandth year. The real twenty-first century doesn't start until New Year this year; 2000. Those Whitehall wallies had us celebrating the end of 1,999 years.' 

'I see your point', I conceded. 'But it's ...'

'And how did our government celebrate all that's best in Britain at the end of 1.999 years?' continued Jake. 'With an up-turned wok that cost the British public billions. Billions.' 

'Did you go there? To the Dome?’ I asked. 

‘Me? Not likely', said Jake. 

‘Then how can you criticise?' I said. 'I went and I had a great day out. So did the kids. In fact, everyone I know who went also had a great day out. The Peter Gabriel floor show alone was worth the entrance fee.’ 

‘Yeah, but that still doesn't warrant the cost', said Jake. 'People like me who live way out in the country couldn't afford to go there. What with the rail fares being as high as they are. And petrol isn't exactly cheap either. That's the true vision of Britain in the year 2000; an attraction that no-one can afford to visit. Is that why you lot built this arch? As a cut-price version of the Dome? To give the locals something to look at as they couldn't get to the Greenwich white elephant?’ 

I took a deep breath. Jake had ruffled my feathers but I didn't want this to sound like a history lecture.

‘The idea behind the Dome was, as you say, to celebrate Britain at the end of the 1900s but, sadly, the press got their claws out for it from Day One,' I said. 'The whole project was used as a metaphor for the Government's performance. And the amount of lottery money that went in didn't help public opinion either. This arch is different. This was built by the people of Wycombe for the people of Wycombe. It's a way of celebrating the past, while looking forward to future prosperity.' 

I paused to wave at the arch above. 

'This borough was once the furniture capital of England. All the big manufacturers were based here, like Ercol and Parker Knoll. We were particularly famous for chair making. Chairs were the town's main export. So, when Queen Victoria paid a visit to Disraeli in 1877... you did know that Benjamin Disraeli lived in Wycombe? At Hughenden Manor?’ 

'I didn't, but go on.' 

‘Well, to mark the occasion the council came up with the idea of building an arch made of chairs. So they got one of their people - a guy with the brilliant name of Walter Skull - to organise it through the Chair Manufacturers' Association. The arch even included the State chair of the mayor.'

‘But why an arch?' asked Jake. 

‘Some reckon it's a tradition that started after Marble Arch and the Arc de Triomphe were built,' I said. ‘I’ve heard of places making arches from things like flowers, garden tools and motorbikes. It depends on what the local area is famous for, I suppose.' 

'Good job they didn't build a Millennium Arch in Soho then', said Jake. 

'Anyway, the arch was built and, apparently, Queen Vie was so impressed that she stopped the coach to have a closer look at it. That's what started the fad for chair arches. There have been about three more, I think. I know the biggest one was for the visit of the Prince of Wales in 1884. That had about 400 chairs. And there was definitely one in 1962 for the visit of the Oueen.’ 

'And you say that you're not obsessed?' said Jake. 'How do you remember these things?' 

'I don't', I said with a smile. 'It's written on that poster just behind you. 

Jake turned and saw the information sheet. 'Ah. You cheated.' 

'I may be interested in local history but I don't own an anorak yet', I said. 

‘Yeah, well. I guess it is nice to see a town taking pride in its past. A lot of places just don't bother any more.' 

'There's a lot of history here that deserves to be celebrated', I said. 'During the war the Wycombe furniture makers used their skills to build the wooden frames for the Mosquito aircraft. The Spitfire and Hurricane and the Lancaster bomber get all the press but the Mosquito was the workhorse of the RAF and it has been called the most versatile warplane ever built. With its light wooden frame it was one of the fastest operational aircraft in the world. And it was designed by Sir Geoffrey de Havilland - a local man. He also designed the Comet, the world's first commercial jet airliner.'

'I guess that is something to be proud of.'

'And while the big furniture manufacturers may have moved on or disappeared, we still have some of the best bespoke cabinet makers in the world around here. And local schools and colleges produce a large number of brilliant new designers every year. So, still think we're obsessed with chairs?' 

‘Yeah, okay. If places can have hat museums and toy museums, I guess that Wycombe can have a chair museum and a chair arch.' 

''If you like, we can take a walk up to the museum,' I said. 'It's only five minutes away.' 

‘Not really my bag', said Jake. 'Although I'm quite happy to go and study the barstools in The Antelope.’

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The High Wycombe Millennium Chair Arch was on view from 17th May – 31st May 2000 outside the Guildhall in High Wycombe.

A more recent arch - though without chairs - was put up in 2013-2014 as part of the Mayor's Charity Appeal that year.