To spot North Pier, just look straight out from the end of Talbot Road-you’ll see a long, elegant boardwalk with pavilions and kiosks stretching far out into the Irish Sea, with the waves lapping all around it.
Imagine it’s 1863: you’re standing here among thousands of excited onlookers, bunting and flags flutter everywhere, the salty air is thick with anticipation. Suddenly, the boom of a cannon echoes across the shore, and the freshly-built North Pier-Blackpool’s newest wonder-opens for the very first time. Even though the last few yards of the pier aren’t quite finished, nobody seems to mind. Local shops are shuttered, streamers drape the streets, and the town’s population, just a few thousand, swells with over 20,000 people who’ve come for this big day. Pretty impressive for a place that until recently was little more than sand dunes and sea breezes!
Now take in the pier itself: built almost entirely out of iron, with sturdy screw-tipped piles twisting deep into the sand below, thanks to Eugenius Birch’s ground-breaking engineering-or should I say, sand-breaking. He made sure this pier wouldn’t wash away in the next stormy squall, at least not without giving it a good fight. And fight it has! More than 150 years, battered by storms and the occasional stray boat-imagine waking up to find a ship parked halfway up your promenade. That actually happened in 1892, when the Sirene crashed into the side of the pier and left four shops and part of the deck crumpled on the sands. The pier survived, patched up yet determined to keep delighting visitors.
Originally, this was meant to be a promenade for the “better classes.” Orchestra concerts filled the air, the comedians kept it clean, and entry cost a shiny two pence-enough to keep out the rowdier crowds but not enough to keep away the trippers. Don’t laugh: this was serious business! Major Preston, opening the pier with all the pomp of a royal, even campaigned for a new pier just for trippers. Hence Blackpool’s three-pier scene, a bit of social engineering by the seaside.
By the late 19th century, more kiosks popped up-selling books, sweets, and sheltering the fancy folks from the wind. On Sundays, you could join the church parade, just to prove you weren’t skipping out on your morals along with your shoes. Each day, the tide rises and falls, sometimes by as much as 35 feet. Imagine being on the pier, the creak of wooden planks beneath your shoes, the Irish Sea surging below, and the circular kiosks with their minaret roofs offering sweet relief from the bracing winds.
Time didn’t stand still for North Pier. Fires have swept away pavilions, storms have torn at the sides, and modern amusements have popped up in place of pleasure steamers and diving lessons. The original “Indian Pavilion”, with its lavish eastern-inspired décor, was hit by fire twice-clearly, Blackpool knows how to keep things dramatic. In its place, an Art Deco theatre rose, still hosting stars and comedians, and even earning a new name: the Joe Longthorne Theatre.
Fancy a tipple with your view? The Merrie England Bar and Carousel Bar welcome you, serving thirsty wanderers who want to relax beneath Victorian canopies. There’s even a Venetian carousel, and an entire arcade clinking with the sound of coins-over eleven million every year. And tucked behind glass, you’ll find one of the oldest Sooty puppets in the world. Yes, Sooty was ‘born’ on this very pier-the original was bought here by Harry Corbett for his son, and when he smudged its nose with soot for a TV debut, a British legend was created.
Ownership has passed through many hands-from ambitious companies to family-run local business people who loved the pier so much, one even proposed to his wife here. And through fires, storms, close calls with ships, and the test of time, North Pier stands on, always ready for its next story and the next wave of hopeful visitors. Even if the jetty’s gone (thanks to a feisty Christmas Eve storm), the pier rolls on-longest, oldest, and perhaps fanciest of the three.
So as you stand here, let your eyes wander over the water, picture the crowds, the orchestras, the spectacular sunsets, and maybe-just maybe-listen for the echoes of cannon fire and laughter that have floated above these planks for generations.
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