Greenock Westwards Preview

Hello and welcome to Greenock History Walks by Cartsburn Publishing.

Cartsburn Publishing is the work of Social and Local Historian Vincent Gillen, whose aim is to tell the rich history of the town of Greenock on the West Coast of Scotland, through publications and social media. These walks are a new venture aimed at tourists and locals alike. It's a chance to tell stories of the buildings, streets and people who lived there. These stories have been gathered over the years and are illustrated with historical images.

Vincent was born in Greenock and holds a joint honours degree from Glasgow University in Scottish History and Social & Economic History. He has worked locally as a Social History Curator for over 30 years.

I hope you enjoy the experience. Please leave feedback, it's always appreciated

This is our starting point. Three hundred years ago we would be standing in the shipbuilding yard of John Scott. This business would continue in Greenock till 1984, when 270 years of business ended. Scotts had moved to the east end of the town in the 19th century and the yard was bought by Caird & Co. The first steel hulled ship built on the Clyde was constructed here and many P & O liners.

Now, from the Wyllieum head south to the street junction. let’s turn right and wander round the corner onto Container Way — though locals from long ago would have called it East Clyde Street.

As you walk, imagine this area centuries ago: instead of containers and forklifts, it was a rough shoreline, tidal and muddy, later reclaimed for shipbuilding and yards that would eventually dominate Greenock’s economy. The place names still carry the echoes—all reminders of a town shaped by water, trade, and hard labour.

Just at the car park to the Bingo hall, there is a sign showing the site of the Old West Kirk. You are currently standing in what was the graveyard.

This is a tale of perseverance, faith, and community.

in 1560, after the Scottish Reformation. Greenock's chapels closed. The parish church was 5.5 miles away in Inverkip – an 11-mile round trip over difficult terrain. This wasn't just an inconvenience; it was a barrier to spiritual life for "puir pepill."

Johnne Schaw of Greenock saw this struggle. He used his influence, and on November 18, 1589, King James VI granted him a charter. This authorized Schaw to build a church, manse, and graveyard in Greenock. The King was "movit with the ernest zeill" for his people.

The church, opened on October 4, 1591. This was the first Presbyterian church built in Scotland after the Reformation.

The original kirk was modest, with a rectangular nave and entrance at the south. A central passageway led to a communion table. Eventually, east and west aisles created a cruciform plan.

By the 19th century, the kirk lay disused, in need of repair. A new West Kirk was built on Nelson Street. In 1864, under architect James Salmon, extensive work began. The interior was renovated. Digging the earthen floor revealed over 70 copper coins and two silver coins, dating back to 1634. A new tower was added. The church reopened on Christmas Day, 1864.

In 1872, it became the North Parish Church, but remained "the Old West Kirk." kirk.

At the end of the first world war Harland and Wolff bought over Cairds shipyard and moved the church, brick by brick to the Esplanade. We will see it further along on the walk.

The Old West Kirk is more than a building; it's a living monument to Greenock's spirit. From its humble beginnings, born from Johnne Schaw's determination and community faith, it stands as a testament to perseverance.

If we continue west along Container Way to the Red Port of Greenock gates

If you’d been standing here over two hundred years ago, the air would’ve sounded very different. Instead of the hum of cars and footsteps, you’d have heard the boom of cannons echoing across the Clyde.

To your right stood Fort Jervis — a small battery of guns built to protect Greenock from French and American raiders at the turn of the 18th century. It’s hard to imagine now, but in those days, the fear of attack was real, and these guns were the town’s shield against danger from the sea.

One local talking about the fort in the 1870s recalled

About a hundred feet eastwards from the north-end of this wall stood the outer works or scapement (as they called it) of Fort Jervis, with earthwork above having embrasures for, I think, eleven twenty-four pounders and a two-storeyed house having a large flag-pole in the centre of the fort. At the time of which I speak it was no longer used for its original purpose ; and although the gateway was shut the boys would scale the scapement and have fine sport in old ‘Jervis,’ sporting round the large cannon and through all the length and breadth of the fort. Latterly all and sundry used the top of the grassy earthworks as a nice seat in fine weather after the labours of the day were done to witness the bathing, and to hear, and no doubt discuss, the topics current in that stirring time of war.

We will walk on to the warehouses at Haig Street.

On our right here was one of the original town Ropeworks, belonging to the Ramsay and Laird families.

the rhythmic creak of wooden wheels and the scent of hemp would have filled the air. Rope-making wasn’t just a trade here in Greenock; it was the very lifeline of the town’s booming shipbuilding and seafaring industries.

From these humble beginnings, the Laird family’s story stretched far beyond Greenock’s shores. They became part of the great Cammell Laird shipyard in Birkenhead, near Liverpool—one of the powerhouses of British shipbuilding. One of their descendants, McGregor Laird, carried the family’s spirit of enterprise to Africa, trading along the Niger River. His ambitions were grand: to use commerce as a force for good—lifting social conditions, halting the slave trade, and encouraging the free movement of labour between Africa and the West Indies.

The Laird mansion once stood proudly on this very street, its likeness preserved today in a painting of the ropeworks and fort, held in the McLean Museum. But the family’s story isn’t all ships and empire—it’s also a window into the quirks and customs of old Greenock life.

One local recalled

The back wall of the fort formed the north-east side of Laird's Ropework, and on the south-west side stood Messrs Laird's dwelling-house, which was a very handsome erection, as many may still remember, as it remained for a considerable time after the formation of Albert Harbour. It, along with the ropework, became the property of and was occupied by Mr Thomas Ramsay and family. The ropework extended in length from a little east of the Glebe Refining Co.'s store, running in a line along the middle rails on Albert Harbour Quay to the foot of Laird Street, and its breadth extended from these rails to that long brick wall which encloses the harbour. On its south side it had an engine-house and machinery for making patent rope, and many a day have I been engaged in boyish wonder looking at that machinery twisting up these large smooth glossy strands for the manufacture of ship's cables, for these were the days of hempen cables and cordage, when rope spinning or making was emphatically a trade of note

The local historian McTaggart recorded a curious scene from the funeral of old John Laird himself—the man for whom Laird Street is named. In those days, funerals were grand affairs, drawing crowds of mourners... and beggars alike. It was customary to offer every visitor bread, cheese, cakes, whisky, and wine—first on entering the house, and again after the service. Once the cortege departed, the “leavings” were brought out to the waiting poor.

McTaggart describes how, outside Laird’s home, a hungry crowd jostled eagerly—not so much for the bread and cheese as for a dram of whisky. Among them was an old character known as “Creeshybickets.” With a sly grin and an empty cup, he’d shuffle to the front, take his whisky, circle back around, and join the line again. Once. Twice. Three times. Perhaps even four. Eventually, his familiar face gave him away. The servant, fed up, told him to be off—but Creeshybickets refused, cursing and protesting until the constable was summoned to haul him off to jail.

So goes one of Greenock’s most human tales—where industry and mischief, enterprise and everyday humour, all twine together like the very ropes that once bound this town to the sea.

Across the street is one of the last remaining warehouses. This area had many such buildings, holding the goods brought in from around the world, as well as a straw hat factory on Haig Street. This particular warehouse was built by another sugar refinery, dating from 1812 and later used by the local whisky company, Thornes of Greenock, who owned Aberlour Glenlivet.

We will move to the end of the street.

Just before reaching Patrick Street, we pass the site of the Manse of the Glebe—the home of the minister of the Old West Kirk. The term glebe comes from the old church word for “land belonging to the clergy.” Indeed, this area once formed part of the church estate, and in the 18th century, when Greenock’s sugar trade boomed, it became one of the town’s industrial hearts.

It is hard to imagine now, surrounded by modern industry, but this area once held a quiet manse garden, a small pocket of domestic life in what was otherwise a working waterfront.

This stretch of land also witnessed a brief but dramatic moment in history. In 1685, during the Monmouth Rebellion—an uprising aimed at deposing King James II—a group of rebels landed here. They carried out a short raid for supplies, but their plan faltered. Forced to retreat, they scrambled back to their boats and made a hurried escape, leaving little trace beyond the story itself.

So here we are, right at the Patrick Street entrance to the Port of Greenock. Hard to imagine now, but this area was once the grand terminal of the old Glasgow & South Western Railway — back when it was known as Princes Pier. Picture it: crowds of passengers with suitcases and picnic baskets, lining up to board the Clyde pleasure steamers for sunny trips down the river. The noise of the old gangways being rocked like see saws by young children.

From the 1950s through the 1960s, this line brought passengers from Glasgow down to Greenock to board not only the Clyde pleasure steamers but also transatlantic liners bound for the USA and Canada. Many Scots who sought new lives overseas began their journeys right here, their hearts full of hope and apprehension as they glimpsed the great ships waiting on the Clyde.

We will make our way to the traffic lights

Look across the road, and you’ll see the Aldi supermarket. Hard to imagine today, but this very site once hosted one of Greenock’s earliest sugar refineries, known as The Glebe.

In the 1700s and 1800s, sugar was Greenock’s “white gold.” Raw sugar, imported from the Caribbean, was refined here into the prized product that sweetened Britain’s tea tables. Dozens of sugarhouses lined the waterfront, their tall chimneys sending white steam into the skies.

The only surviving relic of the Glebe refinery today is the large triangular warehouse you can still see nearby — a silent witness to the days when sugar built fortunes. The last refinery closed in 1990, marking the end of a trade that had lasted over 250 years.

At this junction, Greenock’s story of migration and diversity begins to unfold.

On one corner stands the Old Gaelic Church of St Columba’s, built in 1823. Its sturdy stone walls now house a café and carpet shop, but this was once the spiritual home of Greenock’s Gaelic-speaking community. During the 18th and 19th centuries, thousands of Highlanders moved south in search of work after the Highland Clearances. Greenock, at the southern tip of the Highlands, became a haven — its shipyards, sugar houses, and warehouses offering steady employment.

Imagine the sounds that once filled this church — hymns sung in the haunting cadences of Gaelic, echoing the voices of people who had left behind crofts and glens for the smoke and bustle of a growing port town.

Across the street stands St Mary’s Catholic Church, completed in 1862. Its gothic spire was a new landmark in the skyline of an expanding Greenock. The church served the town’s growing Irish community, who came to work in the docks and yards, especially after the Great Famine of the 1840s.

Together, these two churches — Gaelic and Catholic — reflect Greenock’s tapestry of faiths and peoples, united by work, migration, and resilience.

Now we’ll turn right onto Brougham Street, once known as the Low Gourock Road.

Originally known as the Old Low Gourock Road

This street may not look remarkable at first glance, but Brougham Street is steeped in stories. In the early 1800s, this was a busy thoroughfare connecting Greenock to the smaller town of Gourock. Wealthy merchants lived side-by-side with artisans, ship captains, and early professionals — each leaving a footprint in history.

Brougham Street was a street of contrasts. On the one hand there were townhouses where the up and coming merchants lived, and on the other hand there were the timber and shipbuilding yards. This group of houses sat at edge of town, clear of the crowded centre, but close to the harbours. This area would also change dramatically over the following years as the Albert Harbour was constructed and the railway expanded to form the Princes Pier.

The first building on your right is one of the oldest surviving tenements in the area, dating from before 1818 — its simple façade a reminder of the early 19th-century townscape before the Victorian expansion swept in. Here, many single men took up residence, at the beginning of their careers, before wealth and marriage came along.

Next to the tenement you’ll notice three early Victorian houses.

The first is the former home of Walter W. Buchanan, a retired physician with quite an impressive start in life. Born in New Jersey in 1777, he had none other than George Washington as his godfather. In 1830, Buchanan’s daughter married a prosperous cloth merchant, and the family later moved into Bagatelle—one of Greenock’s finest houses.

Now, if you look to the last house on the right, you’re seeing the former residence of John Denniston, a merchant and insurance agent. Denniston married into one of Greenock’s well-known sugar refining families—the Fairries. He passed away in 1842, but the story of his wife’s family stretches back through decades of adventure.

Jean Fairrie’s father, James Fairrie the Third went to sea at just thirteen. He eventually commanded his father’s ship, the Orangefield, sailing between Greenock and the West Indies. On one voyage, the ship was attacked by Spaniards near Jamaica. James lost his vessel, and even his right arm, which had to be amputated after the battle. Yet the Orangefield was later recaptured, and James was reunited with his ship in Montego Bay.

His challenges didn’t end there. In 1781, while commanding another ship, he was forced ashore by an American privateer. He tried to reach Jamaica on a small merchant vessel, the Amazon, but that too was captured—this time by the American Marquis de Lafayette. James spent a year imprisoned in Haiti before finally making it back to Jamaica and, eventually, home in 1782.

After another 25 years at sea, he decided life might be safer on land. In 1797, he built a sugar refinery at Cartsdyke Bridge under the name James Fairrie & Company. It prospered, and after his death in 1815, his sons—still in their twenties—carried the business forward.

The Dennistons, too, were a family deeply rooted in maritime and mercantile life. John’s father moved in influential circles and worked with James Dunlop, a merchant who once traded in Virginia before relocating to Canada, where he became a successful privateer and shipbuilder. John himself served as Chief Magistrate of Greenock and was also, fittingly, a ship’s captain.

And the family’s legacy didn’t stop there. John’s son, Archibald Denniston, was known as a man of intellect and means. His grandson—also named Denniston—went on to help shape Room 40, Britain’s secret naval intelligence unit during World War II. Room 40 laid the groundwork for the legendary code-breaking operations of Bletchley Park in World War II.

We will move to the bottom of Robertson Street

There were a group of houses situated on the southside of the street. One was home to Ebenezer Dowie, a surgeon-dentist — a rarity at the time, when dentistry was still a trade rather than a profession. Dowie, said to be less than five feet tall, was known for his skill and character. His son, Dr. James Dowie, became one of the so-called “Greenock Medical Martyrs.” During a devastating typhus outbreak in 1864, he treated patients tirelessly — seeing 28 cases in a single day — before succumbing to the disease himself. His sacrifice remains a proud example of Greenock’s humanitarian spirit.

Another merchant living here was Sam Paterson, a well-known Greenock merchant whose life was shaped by the sea. Born in 1788, he became a shipowner and agent trading regularly with Calcutta, and his business success led him to a directorship in the Greenock Marine Insurance Company alongside other notable figures community, John Ker, Robert Steel, J J Grieve, Adam Fairrie, and John Denniston. He and his wife Jane made their home at 7 Brougham Street, where they raised their family.

Respected in public life as well as in commerce, Sam was eventually elected Provost of Greenock. He continued to serve the town until his death in office in February 1852. His daughter, Jane Hunter Paterson, later married Colin S. Caird, the shipbuilder, extending the family’s ties within the local mercantile community.

In more recent times there once stood a building that brought light and laughter to generations — the Gaumont Cinema, famous for its gleaming white brick frontage. This was the successor to an earlier cinema, The Picture House, which had occupied an old roller-skating rink on the west corner at Robertson Street.

In its heyday, the Gaumont hosted packed crowds eager to see the latest Hollywood films — a reminder that Greenock, though industrial, always loved its leisure and entertainment.

The old skating rink, before becoming a cinema, had itself been a hub of excitement — echoing with the whirr of wheels and laughter of skaters.

During WW2 the world famous tent manufacturers, Blacks of Greenock, were based here after being bombed out of their premises on Cathcart Street.

Later, in the 60s and 70s as the Palladium Nightclub, it hosted some of the earliest gigs by bands who would go on to shape rock history. Locals still tell the story of The Who playing here in their early days — and of frontman Roger Daltrey getting into a scuffle with an enthusiastic audience member!

This was the vibrant social side of Greenock — a port town that worked hard, but also knew how to celebrate.

Continue west and pass beneath the railway bridge.

Above your head ran the old Glasgow and South Western Railway line to Princes Pier, once vital to Greenock’s global connections.

Before the coming of the railway, this stretch of riverbank looked very different. It was home to McMillan’s Shipyard and an area known as the Bay of Quick — a place of timber ponds, shipbuilding, and noise. Timber floated here in rafts, imported from Canada and seasoned in the water before being used in the shipyards. The air would have been rich with the smell of resin and salt, the rhythmic sounds of hammering and sawing echoing across the bay.

Here’s a story about the Bay of Quick taken from the pages of the Greenock Telegraph

There were pulled up and laid mouth down (i.e. keel up)l a number of large boats, mostly out of repair. In some of these lived—if we might so call it -- but poor outcasts of society. Well as Hood said—

Alas for the rarity

Of Christian charity

Under the sun

Oh it was pitiful

Near a whole cityful

Home they had none

But if society had little or no sympathy for these poor unfortunates, not so they, as the following incident shows. The tenders for receiving impressed seamen lay off in the stream opposite the port, then the Bay of Quick, sometimes a little further up. The one tender was named Jane, the other Elizabeth. There was always one or other of them here. Now and again a report would be abroad throughout the town a sailor has escaped, which was always accepted as a piece of good news to all the town. But of the above incident: A sailor had swam ashore during the day, and while in the water he was repeatedly fired at. A boat was manned and sent in pursuit. He had a good start of them, but the boat was rapidly coming up to him. He gained the shore, however. and instantly hurried off in the direction of the boats, the home of these unfortunate. A deputation of these poor people went down there to meet the pursuers, and, if possible, to stop them. This they attempted, but the young officer in charge would have none of their interference, and rudely drove them aside. One of them (a female). watching this injudicious sprig of war, gave him a blinding blow or 'whip' across his eyes with a piece of hard • tangle' (sea wrack, like a whip, and as thick as a man's middle finger), so terrible weapon to strike with. The jeering laugh was raised aloud by the bystanders. To retaliate upon a poor unfortunate was no go, the young officer seemed to say. This attack delayed them so that the sailor was nowhere to be seen ; and as further pursuit was useless they deemed prudence to be the better part of valour, and returned in their boat to the tender.

If we follow this road we would eventually reach Gourock, but we are going to take a right at the traffic lights and head down Campbell Street

Start walking down the street.

Now, picture this street in 1944. The war in Europe is still raging, and Greenock is bustling with troops, ships, and military convoys. If you stood here then, you might have witnessed the rhythmic tramp of boots as columns of American GIs marched past, their destination the Glebe Warehouse where they’d sleep before boarding trains south toward England. From there, they’d continue to the south coast — and finally to the beaches of Normandy for the D-Day landings.

Among those soldiers were famous names — the world heavyweight boxing champion Joe Louis, and James Earl Rudder, the heroic commander of the U.S. Army Rangers, who later scaled the deadly cliffs of Pointe du Hoc in Normandy.

It’s almost impossible to imagine today, but Greenock’s quiet streets once pulsed with the tension and energy of a world at war.

At the foot of Campbell Street stands the Ocean Terminal with the pier masters control tower.

To our right, where the flats are, was the site of something altogether more theatrical: Cooke’s Royal Circus.

The Cooke family were international showmen — acrobats, horsemen, and actors rolled into one. Their Greenock circus building was the talk of the town. One evening in 1843, young Alfred Cooke, barely twenty, performed scenes from Shakespeare while standing astride a galloping horse, switching between Falstaff, Shylock, and Richard III without missing a line.

After the circus, a fine art deco style building will be remembered by many, built for SWCS Creamery and later used as Church Brothers garage.

Before we take a walk along the “splash”, as it is called locally, you might like to grab an Italian ice cream from the Esplanade cafe. There is a fairly lengthy history of Italian immigration to this area, dating from the late 19th century. Economic migrants, the Italians made their presence known in town by opening ice cream salons, cafes and fish and chip shops. During WW2 many of these local Italians were rounded up and sent to the Isle of Man for the duration of the war.

Head further down the street and turn along the esplanade

Looking west along the esplanade, one can see just how wonderful this location is for views of the river and the Argyll hills. Picture a summer’s afternoon around 1900: ladies in long dresses and parasols, naval officers in crisp uniforms, and children racing penny-farthing bicycles while the band from the Greenock Volunteer Artillery played on the bandstand. The Splash, was the place to be seen.

This whole area was known as Seafield which has led to a lot of confusion, there being at least two Seafield Houses, one Seafield cottage, and a few just called Seafield. The normal pattern for addresses just being your name, and area where you lived. The 1842 map shows the houses that were here prior to the Esplanade being formed and it is these that I will be largely talking about.

At one point there was a suggestion that the towns shipbuilding industry be expanded west from the Bay of Quick rather than east. This whole area could have been a scene of heavy industrialisation.

Mr Allan Park Paton wrote an interesting letter to the “ Advertiser “. “ In the plan of Greenock,” he said, “ there is laid off a street round the Bay of Quick called Clyde Crescent, and from it along the river-side to the Battery another called Clyde Street, both apparently about 40ft or 50ft. Wide. Those streets would form by far the finest and healthiest promenade in Scotland, if not in the kingdom. Looking upon what is admitted to be scenery unequalled for beauty, the minds of our working -classes would grow in taste and elevation and their bodies gain in health from the improved dwellings it is now intended to provide for them.”

The idea that the working classes would have their houses in this clean environment was soon abandoned however for more villas. The west end of Greenock, mostly rural at this time, apart from the few large residences of the rich, was inexorably expanding.

The esplanade was proposed in 1863, constructed from the spoil taken when the old Albert Harbour was formed, now the eastern section of Ocean Terminal. This harbour opened in 1867. But prior to this, the only houses along here were the marine villas, used by the rich of the town as sea bathing and summer residences. The river would lap up on the shore to these buildings and there would be jettys for their boats

Eventually more houses were built along this exclusive waterfront, and walls were built, for privacy – a consequence of the poorer classes using the same access to the river for bathing, much to the chagrin of these owners. As time passed, many of the plots of land were sub divided and more modern buildings constructed.

As we walk west, keep glancing across the river. The Clyde is not just scenery; it is the reason Greenock exists. Every phase of Scotland’s global story passed this waterfront.

Stand still for a moment and listen: even when quiet, the Clyde seems to hum with the echoes of engines and the creak of ropes. It also echoes with family memories for many. I can imagine my grandfather walking here every day, on his way to the old Torpedo factory, or my relatives, heading to New York, or Canada, to start new lives.

I will talk about some of the events that happened on the river – so much visible from this spot. The River Clyde has been witness to so many historical events: Viking invasions, the first transatlantic sailings, the epic tale of the Scottish colonial adventure in Darien, the fishing boats that fed the nation and created wealth, trade with virtually every country in the world, the launch of thousands of ships from the age of sail to the most modern destroyers, the emigrant ships of the last three hundred years, the American naval base at Holy Loch, and all the pleasure steamers and yachts that plied up and down the estuary.

Make your way back at any time, retracing your route back to the port. Don’t feel obliged to walk the length of the Esplanade. Do as many did – walk to the lamp and back. The yellow painted navigation light at the halfway mark.

Let us walk and talk. I have split the stories of many of the houses and their occupants into blocks – from one street to the next. It’s not an exhaustive list of the houses and their residents – it’s mostly the houses present on the 1842 map and the Ordnance survey map of 1857 but a few later ones are included.

The Old West Kirk — A Church on the Move

The Old West Kirk is a landmark with a story all its own. Once standing proudly, as we have seen, in its original setting, it was taken down and rebuilt here brick by brick, a remarkable feat that reflected Greenock’s deep—and often turbulent—connection to shipbuilding. The move was made to clear space for the expanded Harland and Wolff yard, an ambitious venture that, despite the upheaval it caused, survived only eleven years before closing in 1936.

Reopened in 1928, the Kirk carried on as a spiritual anchor for its congregation. Within its walls generations were baptised, married, and mourned, and its doors remained open to worshippers until 2022, when church amalgamations brought its long service to an end. Now privately owned, the Old West Kirk lives on in new ways, finding a variety of uses while still holding the echoes of its remarkable past.

One of the main industries of Greenock in the 18th century was that of fishing. Merchants set themselves up here in Greenock and expanded to Newfoundland as local stocks decreased. Fortunes were made by exporting to Europe, as well as to the slave islands of the West Indies, as salted fish was a staple if the diet there. In return, sugar, rum and tobacco arrived in the local harbours. Sugar, known as white gold, was then refined in the many sugar houses in Greenock. Our most famous sugar baron was Abram Lyle, of Tate & Lyle fame.

The Esplanade was the preferred location for the houses of many of these merchants and today it is still viewed as an up market and prestigious address.

2. SEAFIELD HOUSE

The sheltered housing complex, west of the church, once was the location of Seafield House which was built by a local merchant called Robert Angus, who was a sugar refiner. Two important shipbuilders have lived here in the 19th century – James Tennant Caird, who bought the house in 1836 and John Scott.

James Tennant Caird was one of the key figures who helped make the Clyde famous for shipbuilding.

Caird was born in 1816 in Thornliebank and began his apprenticeship at just fifteen with the small firm that would grow into Caird & Co. He quickly proved himself an inventive and energetic engineer.

In the early 1840s, working with the noted designer John Scott Russell, Caird helped build the very first steamships for the Royal Mail Company—a major milestone that put Greenock firmly on the maritime map.

As shipbuilding changed, Caird kept ahead of the curve. His works here in Greenock—around Arthur Street and the Old West Kirk—expanded into some of the best-equipped yards in Britain. Under his direction the firm produced everything from fast Clyde river steamers to the great P. & O. Liners, including the celebrated Victoria and Britannia.

Caird was known not just for his engineering genius but for his warm, straightforward manner. By the time of his death in his seventies, he had helped shape the Clyde’s reputation for building some of the finest ships in the world.

John Scott was born in 1830 in Greenock, into a family whose shipyard had already been building vessels on the River Clyde for more than a century. After studies in Edinburgh and Glasgow, he joined the family firm, Scott & Co., and by the late 1860s he was leading it with his brother Robert.

Under his guidance, the yard produced some of the era’s most advanced ships—both merchant vessels and warships for the Royal Navy. Engines for major battleships, including HMS Canopus and HMS Prince of Wales, were built under his supervision.

Scott was not just a shipbuilder but an innovator. He championed high-pressure steam and early water-tube boilers, fitting them to vessels long before they became standard. His experiments, and his partnership with engineer Samson Fox, helped shape the development of modern marine engines.

Beyond the shipyard, Scott was active in public life. He served on the Greenock Harbour Trust, led the local marine board for 25 years, and even stood for Parliament three times. A keen yachtsman, he belonged to several yacht clubs and served as commodore of the Royal Clyde Yacht Club.

He also played a prominent role in the Volunteer Artillery, raising two battalions in 1859 and later becoming an honorary colonel. For this service he was awarded the title Companion of the Bath in 1887.

A lover of books, Scott amassed one of Scotland’s finest private libraries, rich in works on naval history, Scotland, and the Stuart era.

John Scott died in 1903 at Halkshill House in Largs. His legacy lives on in the ships he built, the engines he advanced, and the Clyde shipbuilding tradition he helped carry into the modern age.

Seafield House was pulled down in the 1960s but had served for many years as the home of the Royal Naval Reserve and Navy cadets. During WW1 many of these volunteers were turned into soldiers by the orders of Churchill, and fought on land at Belgium and Gallipoli.

BROWNS

On the 1842 map there was another house on this plot, which I think was #2 Esplanade. It was called Brown’s Land but little is known about the family other than the daughter reported a missing cockatoo to the local newspaper in 1875, and that 5 blooms were stolen from the garden.

3. MCNAUGHT

At the corner of Forsyth Street stands one of the areas oldest houses, though it doesn’t especially appear so. It was once the home of Captain James McNaught, a ship’s captain who donated the equivalent of nearly £1 million to the local infirmary in his will. Greenock was home to many such sea captains—men who braved the oceans, often coming from the Highlands and Islands of Scotland and frequently holding shares in the profits of their cargoes.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

In April 1940 the French destroyer Maille Breze was anchored off the esplanade, having just returned from Norway. Somehow one of its torpedos fired by accident, resulting in the destruction of the ship and the loss of 37 lives. The local legend is that many poor sailors were trapped and were given deadly injections, as they pushed their arms out of the port holes.

In his memoirs, Nicholas Montserrat, author of the Cruel Sea wrote of his arrival in Greenock

Downstream from us was the vast pool of convoy shipping which was there one night, gone next morning, and replenished with scarcely a half-day’s delay as the traffic ebbed and flowed. Among them another touch of quality were two French liners now soberly camouflaged for their job of troop-carrying: the graceful Pasteur, which had a flaring bow like a very rich man’s yacht of the vintage of 1900, and my old friend the Colombie, on whose maiden voyage I had sailed from Havre to Bordeaux, en route for my hot solo walk over the Pyrenees in happy, innocent 1936.

Between us lay a day-and-night reminder of how irretrievably that innocence had been lost.

This was a wreck-buoy, painted green, flashing green every five seconds-green for the colour of grisly death. It marked the grave of an ill-starred French destroyer, whose mast and funnel still showed above water, whose crew still lay imprisoned within. Her story had been one of the brief, early horrors of the war: an explosion on board had been followed by a fire, and the ship quickly became one vast incandescent torch, fled by a few leaping men, before the sea surged in and snuffed it out for ever.

Now she lay there, as our nearest neighbour, a rusty, weed-washed charnel house; and many times, as we came up river at dusk, looking for our anchorage, and drew near to the green winking eye, I could not help projecting my mind below the surface of the water, and trying to picture the details of the horror below, and what it was our anchor saw as it plunged down and came to muddy rest.

Sometimes the feeling persisted long after we had swung and settled down. ‘You are alive,’ the green eye accused me, every five seconds. ‘We are dead, very dead. We are charred, swollen, abandoned. There are scores of us down here, within a few hundred feet of you.’

At a certain level of tiredness or despair, one could imagine without too much fantasy that Death, waiting for us outside, had left this pale green calling-card, appropriately French, pour rappeler.

It was said, by someone who had met a diver ashore, a diver who claimed to have inspected the wreck for the prospects of salvage, that out of one of the portholes there still wallowed and lolled the head and shoulders of a skeleton, trapped for ever in the frenzied act of escape.

Let us move on to where the row of flats are

Across Forsyth street are a few more modern houses, replacing older ones. You may notice some rather unusual gates at one – these were actually salvaged from another large west end house, Balclutha, belonging to RL Scott, shipbuilder. These are solid teak.

These houses are all built on the land belonging to the large cream painted house at the corner of Margaret Street, which belonged to Walter Baine, who had discovered an improved way of preserving fish in barrels. He was a Provost of Greenock, an MP and a Newfoundland merchant. This was a large plot of land, and you can see that the original wall extends from Forsyth Street to Margaret Street. Baines house was called Seafield, before changing to Heywood and is one of the oldest houses here. It was later owned by a renowned Greenock family called Kerr. They were shipowners and sugar refiners and very much involved with the local cricket scene. Isobel Kerr was the first woman councillor in Greenock

RED LAMP

At the foot of Margaret Street, at one time was the Red Lamp, dating from 1845 or before. Used as a signal to shipping, it was also used as the starting point for Seafield sailing regattas and rowing races. This lamp was eventually replaced by the yellow pillar you will see later on. A bandstand here was the location for concerts, and political meetings. Suffragettes met here at the turn of the 19th century. A notice was posted in 1916 in the local newspapers stating that open air meetings on Socialism would be held here every Sunday during summer months.

In 1882 the body of a young girl, Agnes Finnie, was discovered here. She had thrown herself into the river having been accused by her employer of stealing one shilling and nine pence.

It was also a popular bathing spot. In 1845 it was reported that a shark swam up to some bathers here. Unfortunately it was attacked and killed.

In 1856 a correspondent complained warmly of the annoyance which respectable pedestrians encounter every Sabbath afternoon from the crowds of boys and young men who select the shore from Bay of Quick to the Red Lamp for bathing. The practice in that crowded locality is unseemly enough during the week; but on Sunday he holds it to be entirely out of the question, as it deprives a large part of the population of the use of a delightful promenade. He writes in the hope of his remarks attracting the attention of the authorities and police.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

During the Second World War, the Clyde was designated an Emergency Port. Its location made it a far safer anchorage than many English ports, and as a result transatlantic convoys arrived and departed from here, escorted by naval squadrons from Britain, Canada, the Netherlands and the Free French. The great liners Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth also steamed into the river, carrying with them thousands of American GIs — more than two million in total. Greenock and the surrounding district became a true wartime crossroads, alive with many nationalities all contributing to the wider war effort.

Winston Churchill, Charles de Gaulle, and numerous other key figures either visited or embarked from this port. It was from here, too, that the convoy carrying the invasion forces for Operation Torch — the Allied landings in North Africa — set sail. Many Greenock men on those troop transports were said to have looked back from the decks, searching for their homes and for the loved ones gathered along the shore.

Jimmy Boyd, who became provost of Greenock, served on HMS Rodney in WW2

“We had a fleet of destroyers coming from Nova Scotia and we took them to the Clyde. I was in Greenock often but seldom allowed on shore.

Once I took some Polish Officers on shore and saw my wife with the pram on the Esplanade but too far away to shout on. There had been a rumour the Rodney was coming in and she had come out to see. You could see the Lum reeking, so to speak but you just had to live with it.”

We now come to Sandringham Terrace. This impressive row of red sandstone tenement style flats, built in 1900, are seen as a very desirable place to live. At the turn of the century Sandringham Terrace was the location of art studios, run by several local lady artists.

They stand on the site of several houses also called Seafield. The houses here, along with Baines house, were among those marked on the first maps of Seafield.

4. WEST BANK

One, on the east corner, was built by a local cooper and merchant, Robert Bannatyne.

Later a Roger Aytoun, soldier and banker was living there. He was the son of Roger Aytoun, who from his handsome appearance, physical stature (he was 6 ft 4 in) and reckless and improvident habits gained the nickname ‘Spanking Roger’; he was addicted to drinking and gambling and was reputedly so drunk at his first marriage that he needed the assistance of brother officers to stand. This house was known as West Bank and described as a marine residence.

Roger junior, was a partner in the Renfrewshire Bank. When it went bust in 1842 he was made bankrupt and forced to sell all his possessions. He died in 1852

It has been occupied by several interesting people over the years. In 1855 Mary Knox was living there. She had been born in Barbados, daughter of Michael Ryan, a printer, editor and publisher in the West Indies. His father John was known as “father of the American Press in British North America”

In 1861 it was rented by Rev Henry Glasson, who was the chaplain of HMS Hogue, on Clyde Coastguard duties. He had been presented with the Baltic medal for his services during the Crimean War.

It was later occupied by James McLean, a sawmill owner, who paid for the McLean Museum.

5. SEAFIELD

Next to West Bank was another Seafield. The first person noted as living here was Anthony Silviera, an engineer. 1st listed at Seafield. His wife died there in 1816. She was “Possessed of genuine feeling, fine taste, and a powerful judgement, in her were associated the most amiable qualities of the heart with the highest endowments of the mind. Beloved by those who knew her best, and esteemed by all, her premature dissolution will long occasion a chasm in the affections of her relatives and in the friendly circle which she enlivened and adorned. (there is a monument to the memory of this lady in the East Parish Church) His is an interesting surname, possibly Portugese, but i haven’t been able to find any more information on him or why he was in Greenock.

I believe this Seafield was then owned by an Alexander Kentucky Johnston, who was brought up in North Carolina, where his brother was a Plantation owner. One of his slaves was named Greenock. Alexander was a shipowner and merchant. The brothers were born further along the way, with Johnston Street being named after their father, who was a customs officer.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

If you had been standing on the shores of the Clyde in the late 19th or early 20th century, you would have seen more than just graceful steamers gliding across the water. This was the golden age of the Clyde flyers—sleek, fast passenger steamers whose captains were locked in fierce rivalry. Speed meant prestige, and prestige meant passengers. And so, many a voyage became an unofficial race.

One favourite tale comes from 1892, involving the Marchioness of Breadalbane and the Glasgow and South Western Railway’s new speed machine, the Mercury. Picture the scene at Dunoon Pier: crowds waiting, steam drifting across the water, and two captains eyeing each other with professional suspicion.

The Marchioness slid in first. Both crews worked with astonishing speed—gangways down, passengers hustled ashore, ropes cast off in moments. The Marchioness managed a two-minute lead, but behind her the Mercury was already churning up the water in pursuit. As the pair raced south toward Innellan, spectators lined the pier to watch the great chase disappear in a trail of foam and smoke.

All very exciting—but Clyde rivalry wasn’t always so harmless.

If we rewind to 1859, we find a much more dangerous episode just off Greenock. Two popular steamers—the Ruby and the Rothesay Castle—set off toward Gourock with around 300 passengers each. Instead of settling into a steady run, the captains fell into a reckless duel.

Witnesses later testified in court that the vessels repeatedly ran alongside each other, jockeying for position. At one point the Ruby swerved so close that the two ships actually collided, sending a shock through the decks. On another pass, the vessels closed to such a frightening distance that passengers on the Rothesay Castle held up their umbrellas to fend off the approaching hull of the Ruby.

Panic spread among the ladies on board; one woman fainted outright. Yet neither captain seemed willing to concede. Only after multiple near-misses—while dodging tugboats and small craft—did they finally break off their dangerous dance.

The courts were not amused. The master of the Ruby was fined £3 3s, and the captain of the Rothesay Castle £1 1s—a small sum today, but a sharp slap on the wrist in its time.

Stories like these remind us that the Clyde has always been a place of energy and ambition. The river carried workers, holidaymakers, emigrants—and also a spirit of competition that sometimes boiled over into full-blown drama. Whether thrilling races like the Marchioness and Mercury, or near-disasters like the Ruby and Rothesay Castle, the Clyde’s steamers were never just transport. They were part of the life, character, and legend of the river itself.

We continue along the terrace and pass Fox Street. The striking white, three-storey house with columned entrance once belonged to John Farquhar, a prominent local merchant. In his day, the land on both sides formed part of his gardens. The marine artist William Clark also lived here.

He sold the land to the east and built the villa here in 1880. EA Taylor, the artist, and designer of furniture and stained glass was the first to live here. He married fellow artist Jessie M King. Ernest was the son of William Taylor, who was the adjutant for the 1st Renfrewshire and Dunbartonshire Artillery Volunteers. Ernest had 16 siblings. The house to the west of Clarks house was also on his original plot.

William Clark seems to have a good business head. He designed the pillar that is on Customhouse Quay. He sent in designs in 1866 and the Harbour Trust took them on-board. After it was built he invoiced them for £50. They thought he had offered them for free and proposed £10 instead. It’s not clear if he accepted this.

William Clarks works — several of which can be seen at the McLean Museum — now command notable prices at auction. Perhaps his best-known painting is his view of Queen Victoria’s visit aboard the Royal Yacht, shown just offshore at this very spot. This seems a good point to tell you about George Knaggs

A RIVERSIDE TALE

George Knaggs (c.1775–c.1849), Clyde Pilot and Maritime Pioneer

George Knaggs, an esteemed pilot of the River Clyde, had a career spanning the very beginnings of steam navigation in Scotland. Born in the mid-1770s, he had served at the celebrated Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, witnessing Nelson’s final victory. He came to the Clyde as a sailor in 1810, when steam navigation was still in its infancy.

Knaggs was among the crew of Henry Bell’s Comet in 1812, the first steamer on the Clyde and the first river steamer in Europe. He went on to become master of the Elizabeth in 1813, the second steamer on the river, operating between Greenock and Glasgow. Admitted as a pilot in 1815, he conducted some of the earliest long-distance steamer passages, including the Margery from Glasgow to London and the Robert Bruce from Glasgow to Liverpool in 1821. That same year he safely brought the 200-ton St. James from Jamaica to the Broomielaw, an unprecedented achievement for the time.

Knaggs continued to pilot ever-larger vessels, including the 1,000-ton Strath Bran from Derry in 1828. His expertise was later called upon to guide the Royal Squadron, carrying Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, and the Royal Family, through the Firth of Clyde to Glasgow on 13 July 1849. After decades of service, he was superannuated by the Pilot Board, leaving behind a legacy as one of the pioneering figures of Clyde steam navigation.

The house at the end was called Hawthornden, and was owned by a John McGregor, or Skerryvore, as he was known, after the blend of whisky he sold in his pubs.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

Sir Thomas Lipton, the Glasgow-born tea magnate, grew up beside the River Clyde at the height of its shipbuilding glory. Surrounded by great shipyards and the thriving yachting scene of the Firth of Clyde, he developed a lifelong passion for sailing. This connection to the river shaped his extraordinary quest: challenging for the America’s Cup, the world’s most prestigious yacht race, not once but five times between 1899 and 1930.

Several of Lipton’s challengers, all named Shamrock, were designed or built on the Clyde. The most famous was Shamrock III, launched from Denny’s yard at Dumbarton in 1903. She was designed by William Fife III of Fairlie, one of the greatest yacht designers of his era. Many of her crew were Clyde sailors whose skill had been honed in the tricky winds and tides of local waters. Liptons lieutenant who managed the operations was DFD Neill, a Greenock sugar refiner and sailing enthusiast. The Clyde acted as a training ground and technical hub for nearly all of Lipton’s Cup efforts, reflecting the region’s global reputation for craftsmanship and seamanship.

Although Lipton never succeeded in lifting the America’s Cup, his Clyde-built boats came close—especially Shamrock IV in 1920. His repeated challenges won him admiration on both sides of the Atlantic and helped cement the Clyde’s place in international yacht racing history. Today, Lipton is remembered not simply for trying to win a trophy, but for embodying the spirit of the Clyde: determination, innovation and a love of the sea.

Things can get a bit more confusing from this point on, as more than often the houses here were entered by Eldon Street to the south. Later the same houses had an Esplanade number too! I have tried my best to correctly identify them. To add to the confusion some houses were just given names, rather than numbers and as more houses were built numbers were often changed

7. CLYDEBANK

The site now occupied by these two houses was once home to a property known as Clydebank, built by James Stewart of the Newfoundland firm J & W Stewart. Stewart briefly served as provost of Greenock, but died only a week after taking office. He married Margaret Parker Darroch, the daughter of the laird of Gourock, a West Indies merchant. His son later became Greenock’s member of parliament.

Clydebank was also the residence of Thomas Fairrie, a prominent sugar refiner. The Fairrie family eventually moved to Liverpool, where they established a major sugar-refining enterprise. Thomas himself was, in the words of Rev. Dr. Laughton in 1887, “a name that should never be forgotten in Greenock; there was no other man who did so much for the cause of education in Greenock long before the days of School Boards.”

8. VILLA MARINA

The next house, at number 12, was known as Villa Marina. The name suggests its origins, as with many of the early houses here

‘The marine villa was a hybrid born out of the passion for the Picturesque crossed with a newly discovered attractions of the sea, both as seascape and as therapy which, along with the rise of the Seaside resort, began in the late eighteenth century and gathered pace in the early 1800s.

It was built for Robert Jamieson, a West India merchant and cooper, who gave evidence to Parliament in 1843 on the employment of young children and the use of barrels in Greenock’s trade. He stated that the majority of his barrels were filled with coals for the steam engines in the sugar mills, and returned with sugar and that his apprentices worked from 6am till 6pm

The property was later owned by John Hamilton, a ship’s captain and shipowner. He died in 1883 aged 83. His brother James, also a Captain, lived up the street at Seabank. They were involved in the Quebec timber trade and Highland emigration to USA

He was known to spend the winters in Cannes.

9. SEAFIELD COTTAGE

Seafield Cottage is the slightly sunken building with the ornate ironwork at its entrance. It was possibly built by William Stewart, a Newfoundland merchant, brother of James, and has had several notable occupants. Perhaps the most distinguished was Robert Wallace, the Greenock MP often regarded as one of the fathers of modern postal communication for his championing of Rowland Hill’s penny post. Wallace even funded much of the statistical work required to develop the system.

After losing his West Indies estates, he was supported by friends in Greenock, who helped provide for him — including giving him the use of this house. His impressive memorial in Greenock Cemetery remains well worth a visit.

Lieut John Hope who also lived here was so annoyed by people who picnicked on the shore in front of his house that he had the ground turned over to prevent it.

Also Hugh Macmillan (1833-1903) was a minister in the Free Church of Scotland.

First ordained at Kirkmichael in Perthshire in 1859, Macmillan was called to Free St Peter’s in 1864. He established a reputation as an able preacher and published a number of books, one of the best known being Bible teachings in Nature. His other interests were botany and travel and he spent some time in Rome as Free Church Deputy there.

Macmillan was a member of the Glasgow School Board. In 1878 he moved on to the West Church, Greenock, where he remained until his death in 1903. He was Moderator of the Free Church General Assembly in 1897.

He lived here with his wife Jane and six children, including daughter Winifred who exhibited at several art societies

The next group of houses are of similar style and one source claims they were built as summer residences, or marine villas as we have noted already.

10. HiSLOP

The first belonged to John Hislop, printer, bookseller & stationer. He died in 1866. His business was at 29 Cathcart Street.

He had been appointed Registrar for the West Parish of Greenock after the passing of the Registration Act in 1854

Both his sons left the country and were never heard of again. Their sister requesting permission to sell their heritable property. Colin Buchanan Hislop left for Buenos Ayres in 1865 and nothing was heard from 1869-1884. It was later confirmed that he had died in 1876, leaving £212

His other son, John R Hislop left for Calcutta in 1869 and then Hong Kong. Nothing was heard of him after 1870. Confirmed later that he had died at Hong Kong in 1877, leaving £189

11. SWORD

The next house, #15 belonged to the Sword family, who were wine & spirit merchants as well as refinery owners. A son, Colin Buchanan retired from sugar refining in 1873 and moved to Canada – he was a Farmer. He later became Inspector of Fisheries at New Westminster and also a politician, serving in the Legislative Assembly of British Columbia 1890-98. He died in 1928 in New Westminster BC.

12. ROCK VILLA

Rock Villa, the house at number 17, is entered from Eldon Street. It was owned at one time by the Easton family, who had links with the sugar trade in Demerara. They were Plantation owners. A Joseph Easton owned 306 slaves.

John Hunter, fish merchant lived here. He started as a fish merchant in 1832. Very much a Liberal he was actively involved with the Reform Act. He entered the town Council in 1858 and campaigned strongly for the Gryffe Water Scheme and Garvel Park purchase.

Self educated, he was a founder of the Mechanics Institute. A certain huskiness of voice and ruggedness of speech made his individuality stand out

He died in 1887 age 78 at Innellan.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

Visible on the river is the wreck of the Captayannis, a Greek sugar freighter that ran aground off Greenock in January 1974 during a severe storm. While waiting to unload its cargo, the ship dragged anchor and was holed after colliding with another vessel’s anchor chain. Captain Theodorakis Ionnis deliberately beached the ship on a sandbank, preventing it from sinking in deep water and ensuring the safety of the crew. Today, the wreck remains partially visible at low tide and is affectionately known locally as the “Sugar Boat,” a haunting reminder of the Clyde’s busy maritime past. I remember being in school and looking out from class the next day, seeing it keeled over.

The first house past Madeira Street, at #21 was originally part of the land owned by the Lamont family, built upon at a later date.

Possibly known as Woodthorpe, it was built by Edward Wilson, a drysalter. He was Treasurer of Greenock in 1871 later serving as Magistrate and Provost. He was a staunch Liberal and lifelong member of Union Street UP Church He married Barbara Prentice. He was host to Lloyd George here, early in his career.

During WW2 it was used as the HQ of the London firm of Stevedores, Scruttons, who came up to Greenock to help with all the increase in maritime traffic.

19. LAMONT

The rather strange building at #22, a mix of architectural styles, was owned in 1847 by Colin Lamont jnr, the son of Colin, senior, who was a very interesting man.

Colin Lamont was a prominent Greenock educator and scientific figure whose work bridged mathematics, astronomy, and maritime navigation. Born in 1764, he became Master of the Mathematical School in Greenock at a young age and held the position for many decades, helping to educate generations of local students and seafarers.

Lamont was especially respected for his expertise in celestial navigation, a vital skill in a major port town. He operated one of Greenock’s earliest observatories and served as the town’s official timekeeper, maintaining accurate time for navigational purposes. Beyond teaching, he ran a small navigation warehouse, providing and repairing instruments such as sextants, telescopes, and drawing tools, making him an important resource for Clyde shipmasters.

His reputation reached beyond Greenock: the future Governor of New South Wales, Sir Thomas Brisbane, is believed to have studied or refined his astronomical knowledge under Lamont’s guidance.

Colin Lamont died in 1827, leaving behind a legacy as one of Greenock’s earliest and most influential teachers of mathematics and navigation—an educator whose work supported both scientific understanding and the town’s maritime success.

Colin Lamont Jr. Was a long-serving and well-respected banker in 19th-century Greenock. Born around 1789, he spent his professional life in the local financial sector, working primarily as a cashier—a senior administrative and managerial post—in the town’s banking institutions. Records from the early and mid-1800s list him as Cashier of both the Greenock Bank on Cathcart Street and later the Greenock Provident Bank, an important local savings institution.

Lamont lived much of his adult life in central Greenock and appears in several Post Office directories of the period as a key banking official. His role would have placed him at the heart of the town’s commercial activity during a time of significant maritime and industrial growth.

He died on 20 June 1868, aged 79, at his home here.

His son was the artist Thomas Reynolds Lamont. He studied in Paris and was the model for ‘the Laird’ in George du Maurier’s novel Trilby, published in 1894. Du Maurier had been a fellow student, along with Poynter and Whistler.

20. LITTLEJOHN

Next door, the cream painted house, was home to quite a few interesting people at one time, Thomas Littlejohn, a second mate in the East India Company. Born in 1803. He died in Dunoon in 1872.

Also living here was the first Adjutant of the 1st RRV, Captain George Barrington Godbold, 87th Royal Irish Fusiliers. Born 1819. He resigned as Adjutant in 1867, replaced by JJ Grier and died in 1872 in Edinburgh.

Alexander Wright: Greenock’s Great Theatre Man

Let me introduce you to Alexander Wright, a name once known to every theatre-goer in Greenock. Born in St Ninians, Stirlingshire, on 15 November 1826, he spent his early years between St Ninians and Bannockburn. His first steps into adult life took him into commercial work in Glasgow—but it soon became clear that ledgers and invoices were not his calling.

What truly captured his imagination was the theatre.

Wright’s chance came when he found work with the remarkable Edmund Glover, one of the most influential theatrical figures in Scotland during the mid-19th century. Glover had arrived from London in 1838, already steeped in the profession—his own mother had been a celebrated actress. In Scotland he made his mark quickly, bringing the famous soprano Jenny Lind to the country and using the success to open Glasgow’s Princes Theatre in 1849, followed by the Royal three years later. His reputation grew further with theatres in Paisley, Dunfermline, and—most importantly for Wright—a new Theatre Royal in West Blackhall Street, Greenock.

Alexander Wright played a significant part in the building of this Greenock theatre, and it became the centre of his professional life. When events drew him permanently to the town, he joined the management, bringing with him the standards he had learned under Glover. At a time when theatre in Scotland could be uneven in quality, Glover had insisted on high-class productions, mixing drama with British and Italian opera. Wright absorbed that ethos: theatre, he believed, should be “healthy entertainment”—uplifting, respectable, and accessible.

When Glover died in 1860, Wright stepped fully into the role of lessee and manager. Under his stewardship, the Greenock Theatre Royal welcomed many performers who would go on to national fame, including Barry Sullivan and, early in his career, the young Irving Berlin. Wright’s management was not only professional but generous. Each year he invited residents of local institutions—children, the elderly, the infirm—to the annual pantomime, ensuring that everyone could share in the magic of the stage.

In 1874 the people of Greenock presented him with a public testimonial, a mark of gratitude for decades of careful management and good entertainment. The theatre would later be transformed into a music hall and renamed The Hippodrome, but Wright’s legacy remained.

Alexander Wright spent the rest of his life in Greenock, passing away on 22 February 1902 at Seabank House, 7 Johnstone Street. At the time of his death, he held a remarkable distinction: he was the oldest theatre manager in the entire United Kingdom.

A quiet Stirlingshire lad who found his place under the footlights—Alexander Wright helped shape Greenock’s cultural life for more than half a century

Also the poet John Davidson spent his early years here.

John Davidson was born in Barrhead in 1857 but grew up largely in Greenock, where his father served as a Presbyterian minister. Educated at Highlanders’ Academy and the Greenock Academy, he showed early talent in languages, drama, and literature. Davidson worked briefly at the Watt Library and held small teaching posts before leaving the town in his twenties.

He went on to build a literary career in Edinburgh and later London, becoming known for his bold dramatic monologues, imaginative poems, and his influence on early modernist thought. Themes of industry, seascape, and the west coast atmosphere—rooted in his Greenock upbringing—echo through much of his work. Despite growing recognition, Davidson struggled financially and personally, and he died in 1909.

Today he is remembered as one of Scotland’s most distinctive late-Victorian poets, with Greenock playing a formative role in his early life and creative development.

I need

No world more spacious than the region here :

The foam-embroidered firth, a purple path

For argosies that still on pinions speed,

Or fiery-hearted cleave with iron limbs

And bows precipitous the pliant sea;

The sloping shores that fringe the velvet tides

With heavy bullion and with golden lace

Of restless pebble woven and fine spun sand;

The villages that sleep the winter through,

And, wakening with the spring, keep festival

All summer and all autumn: this grey town

That pipes the morning up before the lark

With shrieking steam, and from a hundred stalks

Lacquers the sooty sky; where hammers clang

On iron hulls, and cranes in harbours creak

Rattle and swing, whole cargoes on their necks;

Where men sweat gold that others hoard or spend,

And lurk like vermin in their narrow streets:

This old grey town, this firth, the further strand

Spangled with hamlets, and the wooded steeps,

Whose rocky tops behind each other press,

Fantastically carved like antique helms

High-hung in heaven’s cloudy armoury,

Is world enough for me. Here daily dawn

Burns through the smoky east; with fire-shod feet

The sun treads heaven, and steps from hill to hill

Downward before the night that still pursues

His crimson wake; here winter plies his craft,

Soldering the years with ice; here spring appears,

Caught in a leafless brake, her garland torn,

Breathless with wonder, and the tears half-dried

Upon her rosy cheek; here summer comes

And wastes his passion like a prodigal

Right royally; and here her golden gains

Free-handed as a harlot autumn spends;

And here are men to know, women to love.

24 BROOKFIELD 

The last house before Bentinck Street was called Brookfield. It’s not clear if this is the original house.

James Stevenson (1789–1866), a Glasgow businessman with strong ties to Greenock, owned Brookfield as a summer residence and married Jane Shannon, daughter of a local merchant. After Stevenson was sequestrated, Jane and their daughters ran a girls’ school, reflecting the family’s commitment to education. Stevenson also appeared in the Greenock Advertiser when he and other property owners were ordered to remove walls they had built without permission to allow for the creation of Clyde Street and the Esplanade.

James’s encouragement of learning and public service shaped his daughters’ futures. Louisa Stevenson became a key figure in advancing women’s higher education in Scotland and improving hospital governance and nursing standards. Flora Stevenson became one of Scotland’s leading educational reformers, championing compulsory schooling and better conditions for children in Edinburgh. Together, the family contributed significantly to social progress in nineteenth-century Scotland

A RIVERSIDE TALE

Whale fishing had been started by Greenock ships about 1752. It was, however, soon given up as unprofitable, but revived in 1786, at which date two large vessels were engaged in the business. It went on for about forty years, and was again abandoned before 1830, the last of the small fleet having been purchased by Captain Ross for his voyage to the North Pole, but did not take part owing to the refusal of the crew to proceed. This is believed to have been the ship John, which belonged to the Greenock Whale Fishing Company. There was a blubber yard on Port Glasgow road.

In the shipping news of September 19, 1828, appeared the following notice: “ John, Combe master, from Davis Straits with 300 butts blubber consigned to James Hunter & Co.” This was the John’s last voyage to the whale fishery. In October she was advertised for sale, together with the boiling yard and materials

It was reported in 1865 that for the first time in a long period a Greenock ship, the Wolf, owned by Mr. Walter Grieve, had been employed in the Greenland whale fishing, and had been highly successful.

There have been several examples in town of whale jaw bones being used for decorative purposes at several places in town, including the house of timber merchant Daniel Gaff, who lived on Wellington Street.

This section of the street was largely free of houses till the 1860s

25. ELMBANK

You will come to Elmbank, the light gray building with the low wall, which was the home at one time of the grocer William Kelly, whose shop was in William Street. It was then the home of Hugh McIlwraith, a rather controversial lawyer.

According to some authorities, Ann Street was named in honour of Queen Anne, and when the names of the streets were being repainted during the time the late Mr Hew M’Ilwraith was convener of the Streets Committee, the final “e” in the name of the street was deleted. When Mr M’Ilwraith was revising the list of the names of the streets he paused when he came to Anne Street. “ Anne Street-Anne Street?” he said, in his brusque and emphatic way. “Queen Anne, of course. What’s Queen Anne done for Greenock ? D- Queen Anne. Knock out that ‘e.’ My mother has done far more for Greenock than Queen Anne, and she was one of the first owners of property in the street.”

Hew McIlwraith was seemingly a man who could start an argument in an empty room.

Hew objected to almost everything. First he tried to cut the Assessor’s salary, claiming the poor man barely worked. Councillor Thomas Hunter, who had actually seen the Assessor at work, calmly proved Hew hadn’t a clue. Hew was voted down.

Then Hew accused the town’s lawyers of overcharging £200. After Hunter checked the books, it turned out the fee was… £6. Hew had to swallow that one whole.

Next, Hew decided he knew how to run the gasworks better than the gasworks manager — or anyone else. He even held rowdy public meetings to rile up supporters. Hunter pointed out that under the manager, the town was actually saving money. Another vote, another defeat.

Finally, Hew pushed the Council to buy land for a new dock, waving numbers he said proved trade was booming. Hunter looked again — trade was down. A councillor summed up the general feeling:

“If Mr McIlwraith opposes it, it must be good sense.”

And once more… Hew was voted down.

Robert A Baird, stationer and lithographic printer with business at 41 Cathcart Street

26. MATILDA COTTAGE

#41 Esplanade seems to have been rebuilt from the original, known as Matilda Cottage

Home of the Orr family, rope maker. Matthew was a rope and sail maker, inventor of the angulated jib sail. His ropeworks were previously Lairds and then Ramsays, at west Quay and then Wellington street. Imported flax from Riga. In business with JC Hunter

“You have rope works and sail-cloth manufactories. The science of sail-making has also been brought to great perfection in Greenock, particularly from the talent and ingenuity of Mr Matthew Orr, in his valuable book of calculations and drawings.”

27. Home Cottage

John Adam lived here, brother of Archibald, George & William. He died in 1879 aged 73. He had been the Town Chamberlain, and treasurer to Harbour Trust, Police Board and Water Trust. He and his brother William had a drapers business where Cowans Corner is, but it failed. He was appointed Chamberlain in 1849. Archibald was a shipmaster and owner, in partnership with John Hamilton, who we met earlier.

A great collector of books and showed a talent in literature. His tenancy was followed by another great man of literature.

Home of Alan Park Paton, the proposer of the Esplanade scheme mentioned previously.

Allan Park Paton (1818–1905) was one of Greenock’s most distinctive literary and cultural figures. Born in the town to John Paton, a local notary, and Margaret Park, he was rooted from an early age in the intellectual and civic life of the community. After training in law and working for some years as a notary himself, Paton found his true vocation when he became Librarian of the Watt Library in 1868. Over the next quarter-century he transformed the institution, expanding its collections with rare letters, manuscripts, and works by leading writers and artists. His correspondences and friendships with prominent cultural figures made the Watt one of the most vibrant small libraries in Scotland.

Alongside his librarianship, Paton was an accomplished writer. He published poetry in his youth and later produced a novel, The Web of Life. His scholarship on Shakespeare earned him recognition beyond Greenock, most notably through his work on the Hamnet Edition of Shakespeare. Paton’s enthusiasm for literature was matched by his commitment to the arts: he encouraged local artistic endeavour, corresponded widely with artists, and played a central role in bringing high-quality stained glass by Pre-Raphaelite-associated makers to the restored Old West Kirk.

Paton was also active in shaping the cultural landscape of Greenock itself. He proposed the erection of the Galt Fountain on the Esplanade in honour of novelist John Galt, helping cement the town’s literary heritage in its public spaces. He lived for many years at Home Cottage, near the Esplanade, with his wife Annabella Rodger, whom he married in 1864. She was a daughter of the Rodger who inherited Batelle, mentioned previously. Their children, James Fraser Paton and Ida Paton, both inherited their parents’ artistic inclinations.

Allan Park Paton died in 1905 at his Greenock home, leaving behind a legacy of scholarship, civic energy, and cultural enrichment. He is remembered today as a “remarkable Greenockian,” a man whose work profoundly shaped the town’s intellectual life and whose influence still resonates through its library, its art collections, and its built heritage.

GALT FOUNTAIN

You will see on the wall a fountain, dedicated to the novelist and social commentator John Galt, who was raised in Greenock, and died here in 1839. During his life he wrote many novels, travelled the world, and established the city of Guelph in Canada. His father was a ships captain. The family are buried in Inverkip Street graveyard.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

The earliest vessel to cross the Atlantic from Greenock was the George in 1684, with 22 persons transported to Carolina for their share in resisting the oppression of those cruel times. This was a very early example of Scottish involvement in colonial Atlantic.

When the Union opened up big commercial prospects to the whole of Scotland, Greenock naturally came rapidly to a position of importance in both coasting and foreign shipping. A considerable trade was established with America and the West Indies. It was in 1719 that for the first time a Greenock-based trading vessel sailed from the Tail of the Bank for foreign parts. This ship was built at Crawfurdsdyke, was of 60 tons only, and was engaged in the Virginia trade.

One of the earliest steamships to cross the Atlantic was SS City of Glasgow. This would lead to the vast improvement and increase of transport of people and goods. Unfortunately it also highlighted the need for maritime safety. The City of Glasgow disappeared without trace on a voyage to Philadelphia in 1854, with the loss 480 passengers and 85 crew.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

In 1862, the paddle steamer Iona—quietly purchased by Confederate agents for blockade-running during the American Civil War—set off on its journey to the United States. It never made it far. Just a short distance downriver from here, the vessel collided with another ship and sank. The Iona was only one of several swift, shallow-draught Clyde steamers that were covertly acquired for this purpose, and for a time Greenock found itself at the heart of a world of intrigue, secret deals, and espionage.

28. CLYDE HOUSE

The large white house after the Galt fountain, was the last of the houses on this stretch for a long time. It was built by Captain Taylor, a captain for the Stewarts and their Newfoundland trade. He founded the boat club at the end of the esplanade, and a buoy at the foot of his property was another marker for regattas.

This house was, for a time in the 19th century, the home of the captains of the navy coastguard ships, based at Greenock.

Another ships captain, Edward Scott lived here. He was awarded an Italian knighthood for his role in transporting troops for Garibaldi. King Victor Emanuel 2 awarded him the Order of the Crown of Italy.

YELLOW LAMP

The Yellow Lamp is a navigation light, which was originally situated at the Customhouse Quay or Steamboat Quay as it was known then. It is over 200 years old and is a B listed. It is thought that it marks the location of “The Hole” – a deep section of the river where apparently all sorts of detritus from ships has been dumped over the years

In 1842 Clyde House marked the end of the series of notable buildings. Those built westward from this point date from the mid 19th century onwards. I will point out just a few.

One is significant for being the home of Greenock born Polar Explorer Henry Birdie Bowers, who died with Scott in 1912. The house is marked with a plaque. He was a son of another Greenock ships captain, and his mother, who were both missionaries in the Far East.

A RIVERSIDE TALE

If we imagine ourselves taking a stroll along the Esplanade during WW1 we would pass squads of the Royal Scots Fusiliers marching along from their training camp at Fort Matilda. The Greenock Telegraph reported:

What looked like a full battalion of the Fusiliers marched along the Esplanade this morning, led by their pipe band in the kilt, and with a couple of machine guns drawn by horses in the rear. Many of the men carried knapsacks and full kit, and the whole presented a fine bit of military pageantry. Listening to the pipes one realised the value of such martial music to the gallant array stepping so determinedly behind it.

A drill sergeant, addressing his men the other forenoon, was overheard to tell them that some of them did not know their right from their left. Is this the same officer who marched his men to the Esplanade and told them to fall in?

It was on the esplanade. An officer drilling a squad was so ratty that it is to be feared his language became rather abusive. Two ladies were passing and one remarked to the other in a stage whisper I thought the officers were gentlemen. The officer evidently overhead, as it was intended he should, and, turning to the ladies, he said “Some of these would try the temper of an angel”

At the end of the war three captured German field guns were on display at the Esplanade.

We have WW2 connections at this end of the road. Many of the bigger houses throughout the town were requisitioned for a variety of purposes – as operations centres for convoys, officers messes, WREN dormitories and so on

Along at #60, just after North Street was the RAF sergeants mess.

From the Greenock Telegraph

HOLY OF HOLIES

But of all the properties that the RAF is now handing back, writes a Telegraph reporter, the one I recall with the greatest pleasure is the house at 60 Esplanade. It was in this staid house overlooking the dignified expanse of the Esplanade. that the first RAF Sergeants'" Mess was established in Greenock. I am rather proud of the fact that I was one of the first honorary members of the Mess. But my introduction wasn't too great a pleasure, because I forgot to take off my head gear on entering the holy of holies. was at once spotted by a thirsty Warrant Officer and called upon to pay the penalty- _it was refreshments all round for not having appeared bareheaded! After that I always made sure that I took my hat off on entering the building.

"No. 60" was one of the bright spots in Greenock at a time when the men in Air Force blue were complete strangers. But the warrant officers and sergeants who are very big shots indeed in the RAF soon made many friends, and their Mess opened a friendly door to many local folk. The hospitality for which they early earned a name in Greenock is stl a characteristic of the Mess, and is strongly in evidence at the Ardgowan Club, to which they moved from the Esplanade, and where their dances and concerts are among the cheeriest wartime gatherings in Greenock

But most of the "big shots" who made up the Mess in the days when it was at No 60 have now been posted away from the town. They are at stations in England or overseas. They have left behind however, many very pleasant memories and I shall not easily forget these wartime friends.

No 60 is now beginning a new chapter in its career. It has been taken over by the Corporation and is to be sub-divided into four houses for bombed-out Greenockians.

At the end of the Esplanade is the Royal west boat club. It was first building to be requisitioned, taken over by a barrage balloon squad.

Mr Munro, who crewed MTBs on the English Channel recalled

Back home, A long lie in is a luxury, meeting friends and relatives. Later in the day, work comes first, have a visit from one of my mates, he’s an air gunner, surprised to find he had married a London girl, things will never be The same again. Another pal had been lost at sea, serving in the merchant navy, little did I know that this was the last time my Air Force pal and I would ever see each other, he was killed later. Strange to walk a few yards from home and see the big Naval ships at anchor, also the many merchant ships, some low in the water, others Riding high, empty, waiting their turn to load. Some looking ready for the breakers yard, their rusted hulls Making them old and obsolete, but really nothing wrong that a lick of paint wouldn’t put right, but later, maybe After this convoy. The little puffers & lighters buzzing around ship to ship loading stores, barges to and from Harbour weaving a pattern between ship and shore. Wondering what life is really like aboard these giant Warships, our boats could be used by them as life boats. The high-pitched sound of siren denotes a destroyer Escort arriving, making a lovely sight, the white bow wave against the background of green hills, my land hills.

Later the shipboard noises, anchor chains rattling, steam horns multiplied over and over, hustle and bustle, Faint shouts of command. My home still the same as ever, good hearted as always my father and mother hold Open house, he meets them and invites their company, my mother welcomes and feeds or tries her best tchainso, no doubt hoping someone is doing likewise for her sons. Down on the Esplanade it’s the balloon boys, they Are allowed to drop in anytime, no balloons admitted. It burst once, the noise was terrific, everyone thought it Was a bomb, blew in countless windows. Our downstairs neighbour was screaming, we told her it was just a Friendly balloon. This leave its visiting Royal Indian Navy Petty Officers, nice lads.

Please feel free to continue on to the end of the Esplanade - I think maybe I have talked enough! Hopefully you agree with me that Greenock has a rich and fascinating history.

Thank you for joining me today — I hope you’ve enjoyed stepping back in time with me. And please, I’d love to hear your feedback so I can keep improving future walks.