According to their national association, three-quarters of working men’s clubs have closed in the past 50 years. Now, one of the nation’s oldest has dropped the “working man” from its name in an effort to reinvent itself and attract new members.
Annie Cowley, 20, of the 150-year-old Louth Social Club in Lincolnshire, says: “It’s very fun, very non-judgmental, very cool. is.” “Everyone is very nice and welcoming.”
“It’s an all-female bar staff,” she adds. “Which is pretty funny, considering it was a men’s club.”
On the wall outside, a stone plaque advertises the original name: The Conservative Working Men’s Club. Managers decided to rebrand earlier this year to attract new members.
Club secretary Steph Vines points out that it has not been conservative and not just for men, “for a long time”.
“I think men’s clubs have a stigma – it’s full of grumpy old men, or women are only allowed upstairs, and that’s not the case anymore,” she says. “Women have been welcome for the past 10 years and we also have junior membership.”
However, the rebrand was driven by more than just changing times. In its heyday, the club had 1,000 members and a long waiting list, but over the decades, that number dwindled to 300.
Earlier this year, the venue had reached a “critical point” and managers did not know if they would be able to pay wages. Steph says she fears it may be closed for good.
This is a familiar story. Many working men’s clubs have struggled with declining membership, lack of funding, an outdated image and low interest from the under-30s.
In August, the nearby Cleethorpes Working Men’s Club Announced to be closed. Because of the falling numbers. Another casualty, the Monks Road Working Men’s Club in Lincoln, closed suddenly in 2018 after 100 years.
In the 1970s, about 4,500 places were members of the nationwide club and institute union, but that number has dwindled to 1,100.
The union has gone through a rebrand and, like Loth Social, dropped “working men” from its title.
“People think we’re still in the 1930s and 40s,” says general secretary Ken Green. “I feel very sad about it.”
He blames the cost of living, the decline in youth abstinence and an image problem. But he believes more clubs are now adapting to survive.
The union is providing business training to help managers run their clubs more efficiently.
“I think the future is not as bright as we want it to be, but there will be well-run, well-managed and well-supported clubs after I’m gone,” Kane added.
Down the road in Lincoln, the city’s last remaining working men’s club, Castle Ward, boasts 1,000 members.
The two personalities behind the success are sisters Janet Balm and Julie Lawson. He can trace his family’s involvement to 1937, when his grandmother was on the founding committee. At that time the club was housed in two wooden huts.
“It’s a passion,” says Janet, 63, who runs a successful Monday club. “It’s in the blood.”
Unlike the Louth Social, Castle Ward has a “Working Men’s Club” in its name. Vice president Jolly, 58, is keen to point out traditional selling points, such as “friendliness, activities and entertainment at affordable prices for all”.
The Monday Club, which offers trips, bingo and socializing, attracts the over-50s, but managers are aware of the need to bring in younger members.
“We’re a lovely, friendly bunch,” says Janet. “We need to keep the younger generations coming in for the club to grow.”
Dan Neill, a 36-year-old hospitality worker, comes to play snooker, but enjoys the “cheap drinks” and “good atmosphere”.
“You see everywhere is getting more expensive and there doesn’t seem to be much support for clubs these days, so it’s really nice to see a place like this still open,” he says.
As bills continue to rise, these features can work to clubs’ advantage.
Cultural historian Dr Ruth Cherrington, who has researched the history of working men’s clubs, believes they are important to British society.
“They should be supported because they provide something that is often lacking in many places in this country, and it’s somewhere relatively cheap to go out, socialize and have a bit of a night out and family. to have fun,” she says.
Back in Louth, a successful open day has brought in new members, but the club is focusing mostly on traditional attractions, such as darts and snooker.
Tables are hard to find in the area and the venue is offering lessons to 16- to 18-year-olds.
Sam Burnett, a 24-year-old shop worker, comes twice a week to practice snooker.
“It’s a great environment, to be honest,” he says. “Obviously, you’ve got a lot of old guys here, but they’re as friendly as ‘Oot.’
“I’ll come in, they’ll say hi to me, they don’t even know me.
“I remember coming in for the first time and having random conversations with random people. It’s like a big family.”
Money has been invested in facilities and function rooms, but finances are tight. A GoFundMe page has been set up to help with donations.
“I’m hoping it will pick up,” says Steph. “He doesn’t have to make money, he just has to sustain himself financially.
“I don’t get paid, really. I work for nothing because I don’t do it for the money, I want to keep the club going. I do for. Without it I would be lost.”
Staff admit it’s a struggle, but a drive to make the club more accessible is steadily bringing in new members. And the message for those who might never have considered trying it?
“People are missing out on some great craic, great pool nights, great snooker nights,” says bar worker Annie.
“If you ever want to pop in, you’re welcome. We’ll fix you up. You’ll have fun.”
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