Zetland Hotel

15:01. Parker’s Hotel. 

            Cashel Street was the first street in Christchurch to have continuous rows of buildings on either side of its frontage for most of its length, and in the earliest days of Christchurch was as much the hub of the City as was Colombo Street. As such it attracted many businesses, and many premises catering to the needs of the newly arrived colonists. Food and drink, of course, are always necessary, and victualling businesses are the very first to spring up; pubs, hotels, grog shops, eating houses, restaurants and cafés proliferate in frontier societies. Most fail, but some survive, a few for a very long time. One such was Parker’s Hotel, which began life as an eating house in the 1860’s.

            Doctor John Parker (MacP91) was an interesting and versatile character and also a bit of a mystery. Born in England in 1816, he married Sarah Hannah Pavitt and the couple together with their two sons, Herbert and John, and almost the entire Pavitt family, emigrated to the new colony of New Zealand in 1850. They sailed on the “Monarch” and had a rough time of their passage; the ship lost her rudder and drifted south of Stewart Island. Eventually, on 2nd April 1850, the “Monarch” limped into Akaroa harbour under makeshift steering gear, Here the little clan decided to stay, perhaps for no other reason than that they were too traumatised by their recent brush with disaster to be willing to risk even the trifling journey to the nascent Christchurch.

The exact nature, if any, of Dr. Parker’s qualifications remains obscure as he at first described himself as a chemist, and later practised as a medical doctor. He does not seem to have enjoyed great popularity in this latter profession, and it may be that he called himself a doctor simply to obtain registration as such; laws enacted in the 1850’s entitled those who had practiced as doctors prior to 1857 to automatic registration without further examination. Popular or not, Dr. Parker prospered to the extent that he was able to buy land and on the 1853 electoral roll is described as a stockholder. When he moved with his family to Christchurch in the early 1860’s his property was auctioned and would clearly indicate a man of some substance: a seven roomed house, a stable, various town sections and an 18 acre block of bush.

Arriving in Christchurch in 1862, Dr. Parker built a shop with residential space in Cashel Street next door to the original Commercial Bank of Australia building. The building was large and commodious and instead of becoming a shop (if, indeed, that had been the original intention) it opened in 1862 as a boarding house and dining room. Dr. Parker applied for a liquor license, receiving first a wine and beer license, and in the following year a general license for what was now known as Parker’s Hotel. Dr. Parker did not last very long as a publican, and in January of 1865 transferred the license to a Mr. George Brooker. What path his career followed from that point is conjectural as he disappears from the records for some seven years, but by 1872 he was described as a land agent, while by 1873 he was back in medical practice.

Dr. Parker died at his home in High Street on 24th August 1882 at the age of 66 having suffered from asthma and dropsy. He had been treating himself and it would seem that Dr. Parker’s last case was another one of his failures.

            Somewhere between 1865 and 1866 Parker’s Hotel became the Zetland Arms Hotel, but the exact date is unknown and the choice of this unusual name remains something of a mystery. The Southern Provincial Almanac of 1865 announced the fact that Parker’s Hotel had saddle horses available for hire, livery stables and paddock accommodation for horses and the house was apparently a modest and unpretentious one. The 1866 almanac describes a changed establishment. It is now Brooker and Son’s Zetland Hotel and “balls, suppers and public dinners (are) contracted for on the most reasonable terms” (Southern Provinces Almanac 1866). Mr. Brooker was obviously looking for a rather more sophisticated market than his predecessor. But why the Zetland Hotel? Zetland is another form of the word Shetland or Shetlands, the large archipelago of over 100 islands lying some 80 km north-east of the Orkney Islands in the North Atlantic. Did Mr. Brooker have some connection with these remote islands that inspired him to take the name for the Hotel as some sentimental reminder of past association? Or was there another meaning? The largest of the Shetland Islands is known simply and prosaically as Mainland. Perhaps there is here the hint of a patriotic South Islander, a member of that not inconsiderable body of current opinion who felt that the South Island should be an independent nation, making a rather roundabout and obscure political point. We may never know.

The Hotel changed hands several times in the busy days of the first few decades of British settlement and by 1865 had become a coaching inn as well as an Hotel. It was very popular with people from the peninsula, possibly as a result of connections from Dr. Parker’s Akaroa days. The original building was a two storey wooden clapboard construction with a bar below and accommodation upstairs. The upper floor had four windows, three casement windows to the east that opened onto bedrooms, and at the western end an elegant bay window. A large wooden parapet above the house carried the name of the Hotel and the proprietor’s name. It was a small, unpretentious building and, like most of its contemporaries, was built to do a job. It was comfortable enough but it was functional rather than decorative. That would come later.

            In October of 1867 a certain Frank Slee leased the stables of the Zetland Arms and opened a shooting gallery there (MacS422). Mr. Slee was an interesting character to say the least and the current terms “knockabout” and “ne’erdo-well” seem to have fitted him with precision. Born in London in 1832, he received a good education at Camberwell Collegiate School and seems to have had the beginnings of a legal career with three years in a lawyer’s office. Putting these solid, if staid, career foundations behind him, he journeyed to New Zealand on the “Lady Nugent”, arriving in 1850. Here he had a number of jobs in fairly quick succession. He obtained work as a clerk for the Canterbury Association, then became a butcher at Riccarton, and then worked around livery and hotel stables. His sojourn in Riccarton and attendance at the Plough Inn brought him the acquaintance of publican John Dilloway whose daughter, Ann, he married at St Peter’s Church in Riccarton in 1858.

            With his marriage to Ann, Slee’s involvement with the Hotel trade, and his association with the Plough Inn, became even greater. A keen gunman, he organised pigeon shoots, he was involved with steeplechasing, and later joined the Canterbury Volunteer Cavalry where he was soon promoted to Sergeant and later to the commissioned rank of Cornet. Serving a stint as Postmaster at Riccarton, he later leased the stables at the Plough Inn, and in 1866 leased the Hotel from his father-in-law, but his sojourn at the Plough was not to last. In October of 1867 he leased the stables at the Zetland Arms and in 1868 acquired the license for the Hotel with a lease that contained an option to purchase the premises. Expanding his business interests, he then acquired the Boarding House and Stables at Selwyn, employing a Mr. Benjamin Seale as manager, and by November of 1869 was living there himself.

            Mr. Slee’s ambitions seem to have outrun the capacity of his purse and he was soon unable to meet his financial obligations. By the end of 1869 he was in very hot legal water. His creditors, principally a Mr. Hargreaves, moved in. In January of 1870 his chattels were sequestered under a distress warrant and went under the hammer. Auctioneer Mr. Alport was instructed to sell, beginning at 3:00 p.m. on 5th January 1870 at the Zetland Arms, all transportable assets including “bedroom furniture, bedding, gas fittings, brackets, chandeliers, one large Leamington cooking range” etc. (Lyttelton Times 5th January 1870, p3). Mr. Slee may well have hoped that this would satisfy his creditors, but it was not to be. Within a week Mr. Hargreaves advertised a mortgagee sale by auction of the Hotel itself, and the freehold of the property passed on to other hands (Lyttelton Times 10th January 1870, p3).

            That was not to be the end of Frank Slee, however. After dropping out of sight for some five years he re-emerged at Waimate where he prospered and became a leading citizen. Beginning as an auctioneer in 1875, he became Secretary of the Waihao Gold Mining Company  as well as Mayor of Waimate in 1887, sat on the Waimate County Council and the Waimate Hospital Board, and was for twelve years chairman of the local licensing commission. He died at Westport in 1901 (MacS422).

            By the 1880’s the Zetland Arms was doing a brisk trade and provided for the needs of ordinary travellers. Unlike so many Hotels in the City, it never seems to have had any pretensions of grandeur and was a popular venue for families from the country and commercial travellers. In 1886 the then publican, Mr. J M Walker, had the premises completely renovated throughout and took pains to “specially draw the attention to the very fine table kept at his establishment, and as being different to the usual café style, the viands being placed and carved on the table instead of being brought from the kitchen” (Lyttelton Times 17th June 1886, p1).

            The Zetland Arms still operated a stables, naturally, and it was in the stables that a tragedy occurred in the 1880’s. William Harding and his wife Alice came to New Zealand on the Eastern Monarch in the 1860’s and began a new life in the colonies. Harding secured work as a coachman to Mr. J J Loe of Leeston and then to Walter Spring of the Southbridge Hotel (MacH154). A good horseman, he took charge of the stables of the Zetland Arms in 1884, but a kick from a horse laid him low. He died of his injuries on 8th February 1888 and was buried at Addington Cemetery at the age of 47. Alice later remarried a Thomas Durant and died in 1916, being buried at last beside William at Addington.

            Like other Hotels of its age group and construction, it began to deteriorate. By the beginning of the twentieth century many of the older establishments such as the Carlton, the Prince of Wales, the Criterion and the Zetland were attracting the attention of the Police not so much for the standard of behaviour as for the standard of accommodation. The Licensing Bench took notice of the justified complaints of the Police and ordered that the Hotels effect necessary renovations or be closed down.

15:02. The New Zetland Hotel.

            John Fox was born in Kent in south east England in 1836 and arrived in New Zealand in 1858 aboard the “Zealandia”, commanded by Captain Foster, at the tender age of twenty two (MacF302). He secured employment as an ostler at the Royal Oak Hotel on the north side of the Avon opposite what is now the Oxford Tavern. He drove a mail coach for a time, and became a representative for Ward’s Breweries. He married Hannah Paget in 1860 and six years later, using his connections with the brewing industry, he took the license for the Prince of Wales Hotel where he was Mine Host for the next thirty-two years. Most men, when they reach their sixties, are thinking of retirement and a few years of well-earned rest upon the proceeds of a busy life. Why Mr. Fox felt the need to shift himself at the age of 62 and after a sojourn of three decades or more is a matter for speculation, but shift he did and he purchased the lease of the Zetland Hotel in 1898. It is all something of a mystery as, although the Prince of Wales was badly run down by that time, it was no worse than the Zetland.

            Obviously he felt that this move would be advantageous in some way and move he did, but before too long his new house incurred the wrath of both the Police and shortly thereafter the Licensing Bench. The Zetland Arms was small and in such poor condition that mere renovation was economically and technically out of the question. Nothing short of demolition and complete rebuilding could have brought it up to the increasingly demanding standards of the authorities. The licensing authorities were themselves under pressure from the influential and strident anti-liquor lobby and eventually an ultimatum was delivered: replace your derelict house or surrender your license. It is not known what the feelings of Mr. Fox were with regards to the demanded renovations, but he was doubtless worried. The Licensing Bench was asking for a considerable capital outlay, and his financial position is not known. Whatever his thoughts may have been, the matter was taken out of his hands when, one Saturday in August of 1901, fire broke out on the premises.

            The conflagration began quickly and clearly started a panic. Smoke was seen billowing from the building, and a group of men made a desperate effort to gain entry to the Hotel by kicking on the door and banging at it furiously. The door refused to budge until a cooler head thought to seize the doorhandle and turn it in the normal way, whereupon it glided open without trouble and the men disappeared inside the building to effect such salvage of property as they might (Lyttelton Times 19th September 1901, p5). Their efforts were of value and the Hotel was saved but it was a poor shell of its former self and the upper floor seems to have been almost gutted. A photograph of 1902, shortly before the old building was demolished, shows the upper floor windows boarded up with corrugated iron, the fire having devoured the wall between the two easternmost windows, and the whole premises was little more than a husk (Canterbury Times 7th may 1902, p36) although the public bar continued to trade. Such a situation could not continue, and something had to be done.

            The man who eventually did something about it was the redoubtable and prolific Mr. J C Maddison, designer of so many of the classic late Victorian and Edwardian Hotels of Christchurch. The Zetland Arms was demolished and a new Zetland arose on the same site.

            The new building was in the domestic Gothic stylistic convention and opened for business almost two years after the destructive fire that had proved the bane of its predecessor. A stately and substantial three-storey brick building with plaster and stone facings, it had Gothic style lancet windows on the top floor and square headed windows on the first floor, the windows on both floors arranged in groups of three giving the street frontage of the building a bold and elegant appearance. An iron balcony ran along the first and second floors which, besides being ornamental, was a most useful addition to the other means of fire escape provided in the new design. The cost was almost £12,000 (Press 13th July 1903, p6), and the building contractor was a Mr. Clephane. The furnishings for the establishment were supplied by Strange and Co.

            The main entrance to the hotel led into a tiled passage, on the east side of which was a well fitted out private bar: the public bar was on the west side and, as was usual for the time, quite independent from the rest of the house. At the end of the passage another corridor led off at right angles, which allowed arriving visitors access to the accommodation and the commodious dining room without having to pass by the bars. Also opening off the main passage were the commercial room, with desks and writing materials for the use of commercial travellers, the office and the telephone room, the stairway to the upper floors, and several private sitting rooms “very handsomely furnished”. The dining room was 40 feet by 25 feet (13 metres by 8 metres) and was “well proportioned, lighted and high in the ceiling”. At the far end of the dining room was the servery which communicated with the kitchen in which was a 10 foot 6 inch (3.15 m) range.

            A broad staircase led from the front corridor to the first floor, and at the top of the stairs a wide landing  was arranged so as to accommodate a “snug”, a small area where visitors and guests could sit and quietly converse. The first floor contained three large sitting rooms, a ladies’ drawing room and twenty bedrooms, together with bathrooms and lavatories whose “arrangements are all excellently complete”. The second floor also contained bedrooms and “an apartment which can be used by the inmates as a social hall, or for a party”. There were also fire escapes, iron ladders that could be slung down from the balconies, on the western, northern and southern sides of the building, and also from the servants’ quarters, whose exact whereabouts are unspecified but were presumably at the rear of the building.

            The Hotel had a reputation as a “country house”, that is to say one that catered for the needs of farmers and those coming to the City from the country. Special arrangements were made to cater for the needs of the farmers, which involved a full quarter of an acre at the rear of the building devoted to stabling for horses, and a cyclery; cycling was an extremely popular method of transport in those days and visitors from the country were supplied with bicycles for their use when in the City. At the rear of the main block there was also a brick out-building, detached from the house, for the use of ladies as a waiting room.

            John Fox died on 21st August and was buried in the Barbadoes Street cemetery. His wife, Hannah, and eldest son Edwin, took over the running of the establishment but decided after only two years that enough was enough. Hannah was by then about 66 and no doubt, after forty years in “the Trade” together with bearing some fifteen children, felt that she was ready for a rest. In 1909 they sold out to the redoubtable A J “Alf” O’Malley who would later take over the Carlton Hotel and establish a virtual dynasty in its history. Hannah Fox died in October of 1926, aged 83, and was buried next to John.

15:03. A Strange and Tragic Mystery.

            All Hotels have a few odd tales to tell, and a few mysteries that must remain forever unsolved. Such a one was the tragic case of a one Frank McAtavey who stayed briefly – very briefly- at the Zetland Hotel in 1921 (Lyttelton Times 6th April 1921, p6)

            Mr. McAtavey was a miner who had worked on the Otira Rail Tunnel. He was employed by New Zealand Railways and had come across from his native West Coast on Railways business. Along with his shift foreman, a certain Alexander McDonald, he booked into the Zetland Hotel on the afternoon of Thursday 24th March 1921. The two men had just arrived in Christchurch and they shared a room together. That night McAtavey went to the Opera House, enjoyed the show, returned to the Hotel and went to bed. At about 1:00 a.m. the next morning William Hancock, the night porter, heard groans coming from outside and duly went to investigate.

            In a narrow space at the rear of the Hotel, Mr. Hancock found Mr. McAtavey lying on the ground, clad only in his singlet and underpants and suffering from severe head injuries. Recognising Mr. McAtavey as a guest and knowing his room, the worthy porter immediately raised the alarm and dashed upstairs. Entering the men’s room, he found Mr. McDonald asleep. When roused the latter affirmed that he had not heard his companion leave and a quick investigation ensued. The floors having recently been washed and still damp, it was with no great difficulty that they ascertained that McAtavey had left the room and gone to the lavatory simply by following his footsteps. There the mystery deepened.

            The men’s lavatory was furnished with a small window 4′ 6″ from the floor. It was about 12″ (300 mm) wide and 18″ (450 mm) high, a very small hole for a grown man to squeeze through, but, unmistakably, there were footprints on the window sill and handprints on the window. The evidence was unequivocable; somehow, McAtavey had climbed up and through this little window and had consequently fallen to the ground some 40′ below. His injuries were grave indeed and he was quickly transported to the nearby Christchurch Hospital where he was attended by Doctors Saunders and Campbell. The injured man remained under the doctors’ care for some days, hovering between life and death. On the morning of 5th April 1921 Doctor Stanley Foster performed a small operation on McAtavey’s head, presumably to relieve pressure from fluid build up, but there was to be no relief for the unfortunate man. He died forty-five minutes later.

            A post mortem was performed by Dr. A B Pearson, and an inquest held on 6th April. Dr. Pearson deposed that he had examined the deceased and had found injuries in the skull affecting the brain, and also injuries to the chest and ribs. The cause of death was found to be oedema, a swelling produced by accumulation of fluids, of the brain, following injuries received, and associated with injuries to the lungs (Press 7th April 1921, p9). The coroner, Mr. S E McCarthy, found that the deceased “died as a result of injuries following through his wilfully precipitating himself through the window”.

            The question remained: why had this happened? Why had McAtavey squeezed himself through a very small hole, and it must have taken him some considerable effort, to get outside? Where ever did he think he was going? If he had wanted to go outside why not use the door, or even one of the fire escapes with which the Hotel was most adequately equipped? What was driving him to such an absurd exercise? Was he trying to escape the purple mice or the pink elephants that were pursuing him? Or was he perhaps prowling around the servants’ quarters? Men are known to do strange things when in their cups, but McAtavey’s actions would seem to defy even the skewed logic of the drunkard. The mystery remains unresolved to this day.

15:04. The Siegert Connection.

            Altogether the Zetland Hotel was a most comfortable, if modest house, and it continued to trade quietly and more or less efficiently over many years. There was the occasional flurry of activity, of course, as, for instance, a moment of drama that occurred at 10:00 am on 5th February 1929. At that time the Central Fire Brigade received an urgent call from the Zetland informing it that the house was alight. As it turned out, little damage was done. A spark from a kitchen fire had set light to some boards covering the drain on the roof, and the Fire Brigade had little difficulty in extinguishing the blaze (Press 6th February 1929).

            The various publicans came and went: Alf O’Malley continued at the helm until 1917, when the lease was taken up by the Youngs, who were succeeded by M J Corney in whose time the unfortunate Mr. McAtavey met his tragic and untimely demise. W H Ward took the license in 1923, and was followed in 1930 by H A Nicholls. Bramwell Lee took over in 1934, to be followed in 1937 by Arnie Wilson. Mr. Wilson seems to have let his fine merchandise get the better of him (a fate that has befallen many who enter The Trade) to the extent that by 1942 he was no longer capable of discharging his duties as a publican and the license was taken over by his wife Isabella Wilson. After a year the lease was up for renewal and Bella decided that enough was enough. She sold the license to one Felix Siegert.

            Felix’s parents had emigrated to New Zealand in the 1880’s. Siegert Senior was a German, and his wife was a Channel Islander. Together they travelled to Fairlie where they took land and settled down to farm, raising, amongst other things, a fine crop of children. Felix was born in 1893, one of four brothers and in his early days worked on the family farm. With the outbreak of war in 1914, Felix joined up and saw action at Gallipoli. Returning to New Zealand after the war he joined forces with his brother James and together they worked in a menswear shop in Manchester Street. In 1932 Felix married Gwen Prebble of the Prebbleton Prebbles, and settled down to domesticity; Lorraine was born the following year and in 1935 brother Kevin arrived. Business progressed as usual, but by the end of the decade war clouds were again looming and Felix, as a veteran, was called upon to don khaki once more. Due to his age he was not required to go overseas, and he spent the first few years of the war as a records clerk. By 1943 he was fifty and was discharged.

Now what? Felix had no trade or professional training. He was fifty, at an age when most men are thinking in terms of looming retirement but as yet far too young to sit back in an easy chair. He had a little money and, as chance would have it, the lease on the Zetland Hotel came up for sale. Taking what, in cool hindsight, was a huge gamble, he bought the lease and, having no previous experience in The Trade, became a publican. The gamble paid off as, despite his lack of experience, he was a man with a good head for business and his years in the menswear trade had taught him how to cope with retail customers. Thus began a twenty-year career as Mine Host at the Zetland Hotel, the longest incumbency on record.

            Those were busy years for the Zetland. From its very beginnings a “country” house, the Hotel was well patronised by farmers and their families coming to town for a few days. Show Days were particularly hectic, and when the annual A&P Show was held at Addington the Zetland was chaotic, as indeed were all the businesses in Cashel Street. The nearby Gresham Hotel and Tattersall’s Hotel were likewise solidly booked and Fail’s Café, two doors down from the Zetland, did a roaring trade; nobody coming up to town from the country could miss out on the treat of a plate of fish and chips from Fail’s.

            The King Edward Barracks lay just across the river, and for many of the troops departing for service overseas the Zetland was the last chance for a taste of home. The Hotel was also patronised by the Police, who did not then have their own club premises. The Constabulary patronised the Zetland for many years: commissioned officers in the private bar, sergeants and senior sergeants in the lounge bar, and the rank and file constables in the public bar.

            Lorraine Siegert was at primary school in 1943 when her father took the Zetland. She later went on to Villa Maria College and then to a job with a firm of chartered accountants. Kevin Bernard Fowke was an insurance inspector whose company had dealing with Lorraine’s firm. They met, they courted and in the fullness of time Kevin asked a certain question to which Lorraine answered “Yes”; they were married in September of 1954. Kevin had other questions that required urgent answers. He was employed by a firm of insurance brokers to, amongst other things, advise clients on how to run their businesses and make a lot of money thereby. It occurred to him that he was on the wrong end of this equation, that common sense would suggest that he stop advising other people on how to make money and start taking his own advice himself. He considered several options; a dairy perhaps, or a grocery shop, but an opportunity presented itself and on 10th October 1954 Kevin and Lorraine bought the license of the venerable Woodend Hotel. The Hotel itself was for sale, license and freehold, but this was beyond the Fowkes’ means and Felix Siegert stepped in to assist. He purchased the Woodend and leased it to Kevin and Lorraine for three years with an option to purchase at the end of that time, which option they took up and by 1957 the Fowkes were the owners of the Hotel. In 1959 they leased out the Woodend and took the Taita Hotel as managers until 1962.

By this time Felix Siegert, now sixty-nine, felt that the time had come to retire. He consulted with his daughter and son-in-law, with the result that the latter returned to Christchurch and purchased what remained of Mr. Siegert’s lease on the Zetland (the freehold was owned by the two Misses Humphries of Fletcher Humphries the liquor merchants), taking over the Hotel on April 1st. The Fowkes ran the hotel until September 1965, when the lease was sold to Reg and Joan McKenzie.

15:05. The Café Bleu.

            In June of 1973 the lease of the Zetland was purchased by two young Christchurch businessmen, Messrs. M Mummery and D Robinson. The accommodation had been closed down by the McKenzies in 1969, and the premises was now a tavern, so the new owners did not have to face the challenges of a residential Hotel but these were the 1970’s and a conventional Hotel on the old style was not part of their scheme. Public taste was changing fundamentally, and the concept of the traditional “pub” was in decline especially amongst increasingly affluent younger people. The 1970’s saw the rapid growth of a new class of people: young, professional, aggressive, ambitious, sophisticated and earning high salaries (or, the very least, wanting to appear that they were earning high salaries). The “Yuppie” was becoming a powerful economic force. Night-clubs and bars were increasingly in demand and the new owners were eager to cash in on this new and lucrative dimension to the hospitality industry. Neither had had experience in the Hotel industry, but they were game to have a try. Mr. R G McKenzie relinquished his house to the two young men on July 1st 1973 (Press 9th June 1973).

            In 1988 the freehold of the Zetland was acquired by the Yee family and was leased out. By this time the hotel was becoming somewhat run down and the west end of Cashel Street was a fairly quiet spot. The lessees proved to be less than satisfactory, and the family persuaded Mr. Yee Snr. to take up the business himself in 1990. Thus it was that the Yee family took over the direct management of the Zetland Hotel, redecorating the premises and turning it into a bar and restaurant. The Café Bleu was born and very soon evolved into a landmark on the geography of inner city.

            The remodelling of Cashel Street into the  City Mall and the growth in the number of bars and restaurants at the western end of the street has meant a revival of fortunes for the victuallers of the area. The Bridge of Remembrance end of the Mall has become a fashionable venue for those out on the Town and trade is brisk. The Café Bleu is a favourite spot for those out to drink and dine, and tables and umbrellas on the mall give the premises a very sophisticated and European ambience. The accommodation is still in place upstairs, although locked up in storage, and the building is very sound. The location is excellent, and the future of Dr. Parker’s establishment seems secure for a few years of conviviality yet.

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  • By Café Bleu – thebigcity on 05/07/2017 at 16:49

    […] Hotel has a long and bizarre history, well documented on Stephen Symons’ literary […]

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