The 'dream' Greater Manchester mansions that no-one will get to live in

The old houses in Whalley Range climb so high – the trees in their gardens so tall – that many, from the street, are almost completely shrouded from view. You don’t appreciate their magnitude, their grandeur, until you catch them at an angle, through the branches, and then they are on top of you.

So it was with 33-35 Demesne Road, two adjoining properties standing in their own separate plot. As you approach from Alexandra Park, along a street where there is little sound beside distant traffic trundling along Alexandra Road, they were hidden by foliage.

Then suddenly you faced them – the stately profile of late Victorian mansions in the heart of the Whalley Range conservation area.

On paper they once seemed like dream period homes. Features include a grand entrance, imposing stonework, big bay windows, stained glass windows, a gable roof, and exquisite original tiling.

But progress along the road and the cracks – literally – started to show: sagging slates, saplings growing from the eaves and gaping black holes where windows once were, below the rafters of a roof that has long fallen in.

Obviously once a fine Victorian edifice, for more than a decade both have stood as little more than a ruin. Now, they're gone for good, having been demolished over the summer.

'The face of Whalley Range is changing'

Neighbours the Manchester Evening News spoke to were roundly saddened by the news. Kath, whose house partially looked onto the site, said she loved the sight of the properties.

“Its façade was so beautiful. It just felt authentic and real”, she said. “There were animals coming and going all the time, bats, even an owl.”

Claiming that the conservation area was threatened by 'profit', she said she was dismayed by the prospect of what might go up in its place. “The face of Whalley Range is changing”, she said. “I’ve got nasty new builds and lego houses around me, and now there’ll be more."

Manchester City Council had tried to save the buildings, by urging the owner to refurbish them. But the owner appealed the order through the planning inspectorate, bringing a long-running saga - and decades of history - to an end.

The houses dated back to at least 1892, as local historian Andrew Simpson detailed in a blog post from 2015.

The most recent publicly available census, taken in 1921, details a John Ashworth, fabric salesman, living at 33, with his wife Ada, three children and one servant. Meanwhile, no. 35 was occupied by Ernest Broadbelt, a fruit salesman, his wife Ethel, and two servants.

By the 1990s both had been divided into flats. But by the mid-2000s they were unoccupied, before squatters moved in. Then, in 2009, the properties suffered a fire - and just three years later sold for £90,000.

But, in the 15 years that followed, they were left untouched. If you click through the dates on Google Streetview, as the years pass you can watch their slate roof become a skeleton of blackened beams; windows begin to tilt and fall inwards; vegetation start to creep up the face and sprawl into a mass of greenery; watch as, gradually, the left hand flank of the structure simply crumbles away.

The council's bid to save them

Manchester City Council eventually noticed this, using a section 215 order to recommend the demolition of no 33 and the refurbishment of no 35 in 2018. But the owner, a Dr Ali Roomi, responded the following year – with an application to demolish the structure entirely.

In planning documents, he laid the blame for the buildings' condition on the previous owner, claiming that the council had had referrals for "dangerous structures relating to the site” as far back as 2006. The site was no longer of special interest, he said, due to "substantial fire damage, structural movement and partial collapse", adding that renovation was no longer possible “without exceeding the commercial viability of the buildings”.

He argued that the harm of demolition could be "outweighed by [bringing] the site back into full use" with a development that "pays tribute to the characteristics of the area.”

The heritage statement also found that the houses weren’t worth saving. From an external appraisal, all notable features had been burned away, and all internal floors and half the roof had fallen through.

Meanwhile a structural survey found that the damage had been worsened by “years of exposure to various weather conditions”, concluding that “demolition and construction of a new property may be a more commercially appropriate solution.”

The statement added that the order to refurbish the buildings only dealt with "cosmetic issues", failing to take into account their “very serious structural condition”. It concluded that demolition would remove “a dangerous building" that was a "negative feature within the area."

Locals fight to keep them

When the owner's application to demolish the buildings was submitted in September 2019, it was accompanied by several objections from local residents. One, who had lived opposite the properties for over a decade, alleged in a public comment that “the wilful neglect" had been allowed by the owners over time.

“These houses are in the conservation area, known throughout and much admired by residents," they said. "Losing both would be a significant loss."

They were concerned about new builds and how they might impact the area, urging the council to persuade owners to "salvage and renovate this beautiful building.”

Another neighbour, who had lived three doors away since 2008, said they had “witnessed the decay of this once beautiful and imposing Victorian property."

“There has been a woeful lack of attention from the owners in respect of security,” they wrote in their objection. “The pitifully inadequate fencing erected after several years without any barriers to access [was] far too little, far too late.”

They added that, in their view, demolition formed part of a “deliberate, long-term strategy” on the part of the owners.

“Their argument appears to be based on the cost of restoration, but there is no acknowledgement of responsibility for the deterioration, caused by their unwillingness to take action", the neighbour wrote at the time.

“This has led directly to a more expensive restoration challenge, but has been self-inflicted."

A planning inspector has found that it could not be proved that the current owner was responsible for the deterioration, and that the fire at the property pre-dated his ownership. The M.E.N has made several attempts to contact both the previous and current owner for comment.

A ray of hope...dashed

By December 2019, it seemed as if the buildings would indeed be saved. The council rejected owner Dr Roomi's application to demolish the buildings, saying it would result in the loss of property of 'significant merit' and 'lead to a gap within the street scene, to the detriment of the area's character'.

But the owner appealed the decision - and won. This came after a planning inspector found, while noting the remaining architectural details, that the houses were "a parlous condition" whose "derelict and unkempt appearance visually detracts from the street scene.”

Following two hearings and a site visit, permission to knock them down was finally granted on August 13th 2021 – on the condition that demolition had to begin within 3 years.

While neighbours had claimed that the seven years of inaction from the owner meant that the property was no longer salvageable; the planning inspector found that 'she was not satisfied' that their condition was the result of 'deliberate neglect' on the current owner's part.

And to the dismay of neighbours, she doubted that the property could be brought back into use, and found that its demolition would have 'at best, a slight positive effect' on the area's appearance and character.

Three years on, three weeks before the permission was to run out, demolition at last began.

Liam, resident in the area since 2004, said he thought demolition was probably the best option at this stage – but said it left a “bitter taste”. He felt the property could have been 'restored and let out years ago', and that the council should have bought the property under a compulsory purchase order.

"Seeing grand houses that could be lovely homes for people just rot day after day, for no good reason, is something we have had to live with for years."

However the council say their hands were tied.

"With properties within a conservation area, the Council will always look to preserve them and bring them back into use, using the powers available," a spokesperson said.

"The Council has urged the owner to maintain this property, and has rejected an application for demolition in favour of refurbishment, given its location in the Whalley Range conservation area."

"The applicant appealed this through the planning inspectorate, which granted permission. Unfortunately, there is no recourse following this process and we must accept the decision."

'The council did not want this property demolished'

A council source told the M.E.N: "A lot of people think Councils have a lot more power than we actually do when it comes to privately owned properties. There are some things we can try to push an owner along - including charging double / triple Council Tax for longer term empty homes"

"The Council did not want this property demolished. However, if the property owner then appeals to the national planning inspectorate and they overturn the Council's decision, unfortunately there is very little a Council can do.

"in a scenario like this a CPO would be reserved for a situation where the property owner is not engaging with the Council or refuses to undertake any work."

The site had been subject to repeated fly-tipping, with discarded mattresses, chairs and other items outside the property’s fences a common sight.

Fragments of former glory

The M.E.N visited the adjoining properties half-way through the demolition with the permission from the crew on site. Stepping in through the heavy construction gate, all that remained was the front facade, a sad denuded sight in the shade of a towering pine tree.

From the front, the structure appeared somewhat solid, but peering into the rear of the building after the back walls were sheared off, it was apparent that its internal floors had long fallen through, with the few remaining fixtures charred and blackened.

Beyond it were piles of copper drain pipes, twisted gates and a growing mound of bricks, which the demolition team had been instructed to save for use in the site's redevelopment.

There were fragments of a former glory, however. Most windows were boarded up with sheets of metal – but where remaining, there was painted glass below remnants of vaulted ceilings. Scrap wood and old furniture piled up in the front doorway but the stonework flanking it was scrolled and ornate, the porch panelled with detailed mosaic decoration.

An interior wall was covered in pristine cream and green ceramic tile. Pigeons nestled in the eaves, but there were also three surviving fireplaces, one on each floor from the top to the basement.

All that is now rubble. Properties like these – predating many beloved Mancunian landmarks including the Midland Hotel and John Rylands Library – no longer get built. The kind of people and way of life they were intended for are all long gone.

Looking at the wreckage of a once great building, it was hard to imagine scenes of a life once lived there, more than 120 years before: a horse-drawn carriage sweeping up the now mossed-over drive; servants emptying out the ashes from those fireplaces, now clinging on above a 20ft drop; perhaps drawing a bath for their employer in that fine tiled bathroom at the back, the tub now crumpled in a heap of rusting metal.

So advanced was its dereliction that knocking this property down was found by the planning authorities, to ultimately be for the best. But for those who loved these houses, a piece of Whalley Range’s history and heritage is gone – and there’s no getting it back.