There’s much talk these days about the modern Manchester: with its glittering towers, stylish restaurants, and cutting-edge co-working spaces. Together, they paint the picture of a modern, thriving city. Yet, what would a trip to the city centre be without The Midland, the Central Library, the Portico, or the John Rylands? It is in these historic landmarks, and the mills, the music halls, the libraries, and the chapels, where the true soul of the city resides.
One of the most beautiful buildings in Manchester, The John Rylands Library
The city wouldn’t be the same without them, and certainly not as attractive or fun. They are the physical record of the communities that built them: the industrialists and the workers, the performers and the audiences, the generations who crowded into halls, marched through squares, and made a noisy, colourful public life. These places keep memory alive.
Yet many of these buildings now stand on a knife-edge. Some have been rescued and reborn as exciting community hubs. Others lie empty or derelict; some are actively being lost. As the pace of redevelopment accelerates, the debate is no longer about nostalgia versus progress. It’s about what kind of city Mancunians want to live in.
The Free Trade Hall today
Manchester has long been proud of its reputation as a city of music, radical politics and creative invention. But as that story is celebrated, its physical setting has shrunk. The Free Trade Hall, the stage of suffrage protests, of political speeches and Bob Dylan rowing with locals, is now a Radisson hotel. The Hacienda, once the beating heart of dance culture and clubland, was demolished to make way for apartments; a blue plaque and (hazy) memories are all that remain. Belle Vue’s King’s Hall, The Twisted Wheel, The International 2, The Roadhouse and The Boardwalk have all gone. Smaller venues that were once critical incubators of talent and community life have been erased or repurposed beyond recognition.
Campaigners warn that unchecked development is producing a city with plenty of places to sleep but too few places to live its culture. “We’re ending up with places to live, but fewer places to live life,” a campaigner told us. Cultural spaces are civic infrastructure, they are where communities meet, where talent is nurtured, and where ideas spread. Without them, neighbourhoods risk becoming mere dormitories for workers and commuters.
The devastating loss of the Hotspur Press
Before the blaze
Few stories better illustrate the precariousness of Manchester’s built memory than the Hotspur Press. Originally called Medlock Mill and standing on one of Manchester’s oldest mill sites, it was one of ther earliest mills in the city, that helped make the city internationally renowned for its textile industry.
Later, as the Hotspur Press, Percy Brothers printed more than 1,100 editions of the boys’ story comic The Hotspur between 1933 and 1981. For many working-class families it was a weekly ritual, a pocket of adventure printed in red-brick Manchester. The building bore wartime scars: Luftwaffe bombs damaged roofs during the Blitz and asbestos sheets replaced slate and glass. Its later decades saw offices and artist studios occupy its cavernous spaces until, by 2014, the last tenants left.
Developers circled. In 2018 Elmloch Ltd bought the site and proposed a 28-storey apartment block; after the pandemic the site passed to the developer Manner, which submitted plans for towers of 35–37 storeys with aluminium cladding that would have radically altered the mill’s character. Heritage groups lobbied for listing; Historic England recommended protection. In January the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport refused a bid to have part of it Grade II-listed. The Georgian Group complained, submitting a Listing Review Request and saying they were “anxiously awaiting the outcome of the review.”
Photo credit Aaron Lee
Then, in June, an inferno tore through the Hotspur Press complex. Part of the building collapsed. More than 20 fire crews fought the blaze; embers leapt to a neighbouring tower block, forcing evacuations; trains through Oxford Road were cancelled. Heritage groups were “deeply shocked and appalled.” The blackened shell that remains stands as a blunt, painful reminder: without statutory protection, ageing buildings can be lost overnight.
The Hotspur’s story sits at the intersection of many tensions. There is a contest between private development ambitions and the public interest in historic places. There is an urgent technical problem: old mills need costly repairs, hazardous-material abatement and retrofit works to make them safe and usable. There is the climate argument too: Historic England argues that “the most sustainable building is one that already exists.” Demolition and rebuild release huge embodied carbon; reuse, sensitively managed, is the greener route. The Hotspur shows how quickly the balance can tip if protection mechanisms fail and the owners, developers and authorities don’t act in time.
The community are rallying to save Hulme Hippodrome
If Hotspur became a symbol of failure, the Hulme Hippodrome, built in 1901 and Grade II listed, has become the symbol of community resilience and a blueprint for doing heritage differently. The Hippodrome’s exuberant Rococo interior is rare surviving Edwardian music-hall fabric. For decades it was packed with music hall acts, dance nights and cinema programmes; now it sits on the Theatres Trust’s “Theatres at Risk” register and in the hearts of local campaigners.
Save The Hulme Hippodrome is a coalition of residents, heritage groups and community organisations that formed in 2021 when the theatre briefly appeared at auction. They set out a staged plan: Rescue (fund surveys, valuations, set up legal structures), Recover (make the building watertight with roof repairs), Repair (restore the ornate interior) and Rejuvenate (reopen as a multi-purpose cultural and social hub). The campaign’s immediate priority is structural: secure the roof and arrest water ingress. Without that, all other plans remain hypothetical.
Their vision is ambitious and practical. The Hippodrome could be home to a Production Academy teaching theatre crafts; a Museum of Manchester Music and Arts; a bakery and employment academy for people who have experienced homelessness; a café, bookshop and bike hub; a co-working space and a community wellbeing centre.
The Hippodrome’s plan demonstrates that heritage can be social infrastructure, deliberately designed to deliver training, employment, wellbeing and cultural programming. But ambition must be matched by money, legal mechanism and patient project management: asset transfer models, community benefit societies, blended finance packages combining grants, social investors and community shares. The phased approach is pragmatic; rescue the fabric first, build the governance and funding next, then reimagine uses that serve the community.
Salford’s proactive approach to protecting heritage buildings
Councillor Hannah Robinson-Smith
Manchester and Salford make an instructive contrast. Salford has pursued a more strategic heritage agenda. They’ve even appointed a Heritage Champion.
Councillor Hannah Robinson-Smith, Salford’s Lead Member for Culture, Heritage, Equality, Sport and Leisure, and the city’s official Heritage Champion, is clear that the shift is structural, not symbolic.
“In Salford, it’s part of the cabinet portfolio,” she explained. “That means I have the authority to bring heritage into big strategic decisions, not just as a side issue but as a key priority.”
That authority is not just words on paper. Salford has set up a dedicated Heritage Commission, appointed Dr Joanna O’Hara as the city’s Heritage Lead, and created a full-time Conservation Officer role, “that’s unusual in local government,” Hannah points out. “Often, conservation is just one part of a planner’s role. Here, it’s an entire job, which gives us real capacity.”
Salford Lads and Girls Club
The results are tangible. Salford Lads Club, still an active youth club after 125 years and immortalised by The Smiths has secured £438,000 from Historic England for urgent repairs. Buile Hill Mansion, a grand but decaying Grade II-listed house in the heart of a much-loved park, is being brought back into public use after millions of pounds of investment. Eccles Library has been reroofed, Eccles Town Hall cleaned and retrofitted with renewable energy systems, and the town’s War Memorial carefully restored ahead of Remembrance Day.
“It’s not glamorous work, it’s tiles, roofs, railings,” Hannah admitted with a laugh. “But those details matter. That’s what keeps these places alive for the future.”
Buile Hill Mansions redevelopment is coming along nicely
Her point is that heritage doesn’t always mean ribbon-cutting ceremonies or shiny flagship redevelopments. Often it means patient, unglamorous investment that keeps everyday landmarks standing and usable. “If you let the roof go, or the railings rot, that’s when you start losing these places,” she said.
Beyond physical repairs, Salford is rethinking how heritage fits into the city’s identity. “These buildings are not luxuries,” she insists. “They’re part of our identity, and they connect people to the story of Salford. When we invest in them, we’re investing in community pride and belonging.”
Money, of course, is always a pressure. With rising social care costs and squeezed council budgets, heritage could easily be cut adrift. Hannah argues the opposite. “Yes, heritage is expensive. But our mayor has been clear that it’s worth investing in. These buildings are not add-ons. They are central to the kind of city we want to be.”
Agecroft Chapel
That vision is not simply about protecting bricks and mortar, but about reimagining heritage for the 21st century. At Agecroft Chapel, Manchester University architecture students worked with the council and bereavement services to propose new uses. Salford University students have experimented with CGI reconstructions of Weaste Cemetery Lodge, gamifying local history to engage young people. “It’s about bringing the next generation into the process,” Hannah said. “They help us see new possibilities for these spaces, not just preservation but reinvention.”
She also stresses the importance of telling overlooked stories. Alongside well-known landmarks like the Lads Club, Salford is paying attention to hidden heritage: cemetery lodges, dock gates, workers’ libraries. “Some are well known, others are tucked away, but they all tell powerful stories about our community,” she explained.
The tension between old and new remains real: gleaming towers rise beside listed pubs, baths and bridges. But Robinson-Smith argues Salford’s approach shows that development and conservation don’t need to be enemies. “We have to make sure private owners understand the rules,” she said. “Development can go ahead, but only in ways that respect heritage. That balance is how we keep the city alive.”
Successes in Stretford
Stretford Public Hall
If Salford shows what political will can achieve, Stretford Public Hall proves what local people can do when they refuse to let heritage slip away.
The red-brick Victorian landmark dominates the Chester Road in Stretford. Commissioned in 1878 by industrialist John Rylands and his wife Enriqueta, the hall was conceived as a gift to the people, a civic space in an era when philanthropy and industrial wealth often intersected. For more than a century it served as the backdrop to community life: a library, a theatre, a council building, a polling station, even a place for wartime gatherings. Generations of local people passed through its doors, barely realising that the everyday rituals of life, paying bills, borrowing books, meeting neighbours, were being held within a Grade II-listed treasure.
But by 2013, the building’s future looked grim. Trafford Council, facing budgetary pressures, declared the hall surplus to requirements. Developers circled with plans that risked stripping the hall of its civic role and turning it into private flats or offices. It was at this moment that local residents decided enough was enough.
Annoushka Deighton of the Architectural Heritage Fund recalled: “We decided to save the building from being sold into private hands. We created a new organisation, campaigned heavily, and finally the council agreed to sell the building for £10 rather than to a property developer.”
That “new organisation” became Friends of Stretford Public Hall, a community benefit society governed by local people and supported by a mix of grants, loans, and, crucially, community shares. Hundreds of residents chipped in, buying shares that gave them both a financial and emotional stake in the building’s future. It was a form of people-powered ownership that ensured decisions about the hall’s future would never again be made behind closed doors.
The early years were tough. The roof leaked, the heating was unreliable, and the Victorian structure required expensive maintenance. But with support from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, the Architectural Heritage Fund, and Co-operatives UK, the group began to stabilise the building and plan for its future. Business plans were drawn up, architects’ reports commissioned, and volunteers rallied to paint, plaster, and clean.
“Fast forward a decade, and Stretford Public Hall is now widely regarded as a model of community-led heritage regeneration”
Fast forward a decade, and Stretford Public Hall is now widely regarded as a model of community-led heritage regeneration. More than 35,000 people passed through its doors in 2024. It hosts everything from weddings and conferences to film screenings, gigs, art exhibitions, and yoga classes. It has its own children’s theatre programme and is a venue for local festivals.
Inside Stretford Public Hall
Crucially, the hall is not just a cultural space but a social lifeline. During the cost-of-living crisis, it opened as a “warm hub,” providing a heated, welcoming space for residents struggling with bills. Advice services are run from its rooms, offering support to those in crisis. The hall has become, once again, what Rylands intended: a true civic asset, owned by and for the people.
The project has also generated significant volunteer energy. More than 120 local people regularly contribute time, skills, and passion to keep the hall alive. Some manage bookings, others run events, while many simply help with maintenance and fundraising. This volunteer power creates a feedback loop: the more people get involved, the stronger the sense of ownership, and the more secure the building’s future becomes.
For Annoushka, the lesson is clear. “Manchester’s heritage buildings make the city what it is. I’m not opposed to new skyscrapers changing the skyline, but it’s the juxtaposition with our beautiful old buildings that gives Manchester its heart.”
She also points to the challenges ahead: “The biggest challenge now is twofold. Firstly, many of Manchester’s heritage buildings are at the age where they need urgent repair. At the same time, they must be upgraded to become carbon neutral, otherwise they won’t be affordable or sustainable in the long term.”
Stretford Public Hall has already started tackling that agenda, exploring renewable energy retrofits and insulation works that will keep costs down while reducing emissions. In doing so, it is becoming not just a heritage asset but a pioneer in sustainable community buildings.
The hall’s story is proof that heritage protection doesn’t have to mean freezing a building in amber. It can mean adaptation, reinvention, and re-use, provided local people have the tools and the will to fight for it. In an era when councils are stretched and developers dominate, Stretford demonstrates that communities themselves can be the custodians of history.
What are Historic England doing in Manchester?
Historic England is the public body that helps people care for, enjoy and celebrate England’s historic environment. Its work covers everything from community centres to cathedrals, from markets to mills.
In Manchester, that means championing historic places, protecting heritage assets, supporting change, providing local expertise, and helping people understand the stories behind the city’s landmarks. The organisation stresses that heritage is not an obstacle to development, but an essential part of sustainable urban design. “The most sustainable building is one that already exists,” says Sam Schofield of Historic England. Reuse avoids the release of embodied carbon, stimulates economic growth, and keeps Manchester’s layered history alive.
The pace of development is one of the city’s greatest challenges. Historic England works closely with councils and developers, offering advice during the planning process. It supports many proposals, such as the recent conversion of a vacant building opposite Manchester Art Gallery, but also raises objections when designs risk overwhelming the city’s historic character. One high-profile case was the proposed 76-storey tower near Deansgate-Castlefield, which Historic England argued would detract from the Town Hall and Central Library as focal points of civic life.
The USMIT lecture block
There are also opportunities, especially the adaptive re-use of buildings, which can bring fresh life to the city while preserving its identity. Grants play a part here. Recently, Historic England awarded £438,000 to Salford Lads Club for urgent repairs to its Grade II-listed building, safeguarding both its iconic terracotta façade and the youth work it continues to deliver.
The organisation was also instrumental in securing Grade II listing for the Renold Building, a mid-century UMIST lecture block now repurposed as shared workspaces that celebrate its distinctive architectural details.
Education and community engagement are central to its mission. Through the Heritage Schools programme, Historic England is working with teachers, Manchester Archives+ and Salford Museums to help young people uncover stories in their local environment. Free resources, heritage trails and teacher training ensure that history is not confined to museums but embedded in everyday places. Recent community grant projects have included Scribblingtown, where musicians created ballads inspired by Manchester’s industrial past, and a Back on Track-led exploration of local parks through the lens of working-class history, health and creativity.
But as the case of the Hotspur Press fire showed, Historic England cannot act alone. Listing recommendations can be overturned, funds are limited, and protection ultimately relies on collaboration between councils, communities, and developers. The organisation provides advice, expertise and funding where it can, but long-term success depends on political will and local capacity.
How can Manchester protect its heritage buildings?
Saving them will require more than money, it will take political will, community passion, and the belief that heritage isn’t just about preserving bricks and mortar, but about protecting the soul of a city.
It will take councils willing to make heritage a priority, developers willing to work with the grain of the city’s history, and communities ready to claim ownership of the places that matter to them.
If Manchester can find that balance, it won’t just preserve its landmarks; it will preserve its character. The future city need not be a choice between shiny modernity and fading nostalgia. Instead, it can be a place where old and new stand side by side, where heritage is not a burden but a foundation, and where the stories written into its bricks continue to inspire generations to come.