Thursday, 3 September 2015

Pub 68, Day 26 – Three Cranes

By Rob

I consider it a testament to my good character that, if I were to count the number of times that I’ve been thrown out of a licensed venue, I could do so with the fingers on one hand.[1]

Looking back at those moments in which I was forcibly ejected from someplace or other, I notice that the reasons behind each individual occasion are surprisingly varied. For example, I once had to leave West Street Live because a female friend involved herself in an altercation that was taking place between a bouncer and an extremely tall Brazilian transsexual and, through association, I too was rather unfairly relegated to the curb outside.

As for some of the other instances: I’ve been required to vacate the premises of a nightclub for not being attired in the appropriate footwear; for seeming too drunk when I actually wasn’t; for seeming too drunk when I actually was; for trying (and failing) to sneak in without a ticket; for not being over the age of eighteen and, finally, for being incorrectly identified as someone who’d just snorted cocaine when, in actual fact, I’d simply been using the toilet.

The point I’m making is that, like many people of my age, I’ve been asked to leave pubs/clubs/bars for a variety of reasons. However, I can safely say that I’ve never been required to shuffle out of a place on account of my political affiliations, and I suspect that not very many people have.

Yet this was precisely the reason given by a group of political activists, all of whom belonged to a well-known mainstream party, for being required to leave the Three Cranes pub in 1980. Having been asked to finish their drinks and depart by the landlord, one of the men refused and the police were subsequently called. Later, the men would write to local magistrates to try and prevent the renewal of the landlord’s license, complaining that he’d flung them out of the pub because he didn’t approve of their political leanings (something the landlord strenuously denied).[2]

Fortunately, and presumably without the aid of media spin doctors, the Three Cranes managed to survive this earth-shattering political scandal and continued to serve alcohol to the thirsty people of Sheffield city centre: something made evident by the fact that the pub was still there when we wandered down Queen Street in search of our next boozer over 35 years later.

Having been solidly underwhelmed by the Tap & Barrel (a visit excellently documented by our guest blogger Richard), the exterior of the Three Cranes did little to suggest an impending increase in the overall quality of pubs visited thus far that evening. However, given that we were still loitering around some of the more insalubrious parts of the city centre, we were simply hoping for a non-hostile drinking environment.

Stepping inside, we knew immediately that the customers wouldn’t offer us any trouble. Not because they looked like a friendly bunch, but because there weren’t any. Besides ourselves and the landlady, who was sat at one of the tables on her laptop, the place was entirely empty.

On a possibly related note, the service was impeccable. For starters, we were served immediately, which doesn’t always happen in a city-centre pub. In addition, the landlady ushered us to our seats and then took our drink orders while we settled into our chairs, which we all enjoyed. To a Pubquest novice like Richard, it probably seemed that the dedicated service was linked to the fact that we represented 100% of the pub’s custom at that time. However, it was clear to both Andy and myself that we were being treated to table service on account of our semi-celebrity status as local pub aficionados.

The total absence of any other human beings allowed us to get a good, long look at the inside of the pub. The place had a very cosy feel to it and was, in every way conceivable, as typical of an old man’s watering hole as you could get – which is certainly not a bad thing! The pub was also home to a pool table, although our enthusiasm for cue sports had already been expended at the previous venue.

We soon had a pint of Sharp’s Atlantic pale ale delivered into our hands. The pint was very nice indeed, with quite strong citrus tones and a slight taste of tropical fruit. However, the promised "touch of candy floss" failed to make itself noticed amidst the other flavours.[3] Overall, it was a refreshing drink and, as a result, it didn’t take us long to imbibe the full amount.

As the landlady came over to collect the empty glasses (thus preventing us from making our usual goodwill gesture by returning them to the bar), we were forced to disappoint her by not ordering a second round of drinks. Knowing we were condemning the pub to be empty once more, we headed for the door with a pang of sadness in our hearts.

But, on the plus side, we weren’t being thrown out.

Pub: Three Cranes (74 Queen Street, S1 2DW)
Rating: 6/10
Pint: Atlantic


References:
[1] And by one hand, I actually mean two
[2] Peter Tuffrey, Sheffield Pubs; Landlords and Landladies, Fonthill Media, (2012), p.130

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