Food for thought on the fortunes of the steel High Street

BREAKFAST-TIME and business is brisk at the burger van parked in its usual place in the shadow of the mothballed steel plant.

There’s already a queue of hungry wagon drivers when Andrew Rennie pulls up on his scooter.

“You havin’ your usual, love?” shouts Kate Owen over the heads of the lorry lads.

“Aye, please,” comes the reply – the signal for Kate to crack on with a dry bun special with bacon, sausage and black pudding.

A year ago, on September 22 to be exact, 43-year-old Andrew lost his job at SSI’s Redcar steelworks, which directly shed 2,000 workers and a lot more besides. Andrew was a cleaner, not a high priority for a bankrupt industrial complex, so he was one of the first out of the gates.

It wasn’t too bad at first because had had a few quid in his pocket to soften the blow, but the “redundo” didn’t last long and he hasn’t been able to find work since.

“Some lads found jobs easy but a lot of others couldn’t find anything. I was one of them,” he says.

His job now is being a full-time carer for his mother, who is suffering from dementia at the home they share in nearby Dormanstown.

And yet, a year on, he still comes back to Kate Owen’s “Mini Chef” van for his breakfast bun.

“A lot of the lads do,” says Kate. “It’s like a family. They come back as much for a chat as anything and to keep in touch.”

When the end came for the Redcar plant this time last year, Kate had grave doubts that her little business would survive ¬but it remains healthy – if bacon, sausage and black pudding on a dry bun can be described as such.

“It was hard watching grown men cry but our customers are our friends so we didn’t really lose them,” adds Kate.

Most of the teas and coffees are served in plastic containers but there are proper “Chinwag cups” under the counter for the lads who call in mainly for a catch-up.

A few miles up the road, the views about the impact the steel closure has had on business in Redcar town centre are as varied as the bags of “pic ‘n’ mix” we used to get as kids in the seafront Woolworths. Woolies closed long before the steelworks finally died but the debate goes on about whether SSI’s demise is to blame for today’s problems on the High Street or if it’s part of a wider social changes affecting town centres everywhere.

At the Redcar Models and Hobbies shop, Andrew Paton hasn’t seen much change. His customers are the type who return over and over again because of their passion for making small-scale models of trains, ships, and aeroplanes. It’s a niche business that isn’t likely to be greatly influenced by the fortunes of those who made giant bridges and the like for a living.

“The High Street was already in decline,” says Andrew. “The internet’s got a lot to do with it. And parking. It’s free for an hour but I’d make it free permanently. The councils have to make money but there’ll be no shops left to get rates from soon.”

As in many town centres, parking is a recurring theme. Outside the Yorkshire Trading Company, a ticket is being stuck to the windscreen of a black hatchback. There’s no shortage of work for the local traffic warden.

In Homestarters Furniture Shop, James Kelly is in a philosophical mood. He’s seen lots of ups and downs in the High Street over the years and he now seems more worried about whether his beloved Middlesbrough will survive in the Premier League.

“Marks and Spencer closing was a blow – but that happened before the steelworks shut,” says James, who opened his store 30 years ago this November.

He hasn’t noticed any SSI-related decline, pointing out that his loyal customer base is largely made up of those who were already past working age.

“If anything, we got a few new customers because they suddenly had cash to spend,” he smiles.

Across at the family butchers, Pete Honeyman has a different perspective: “You only have to look out there in the High Street to see the decline. Shops are closing and then being left empty. That’s not going to make people want to come and shop here, is it?” he says.

He bemoans high business rates and the fact that it costs him and his assistant £30 a week between them just to park.

“Marks and Spencer wanted to be where there was free parking so they’ve gone, and now we’re losing Beales too. I don’t know what the answer is but something has to be done,” he says.

Beales is a department store round the corner in Regent Walk. The windows are covered with “Closing down. Everything Must Go” signs and a Big Issue seller stands forlornly outside, also struggling to ends meet.

And yet, it’s not all about closures. Zahir Korkmaz chose Redcar High Street to open his Istanbul Traditional Turkish Barbers two months after SSI pulled out. Did the job cuts not make him think again about the location? “Everyone still needs a haircut,” he replies.

Zahir says he has no regrets but complains that there are too many disabled parking bays directly outside his shop, and not enough fun events to bring the town centre to life.

Meanwhile, Redcar MP Anna Turley is trying to shake up the mixed bag of views. A couple of weeks ago, she organised a town centre meeting “to give traders a voice”.

“There’s less money in people’s pockets and that’s definitely hit footfall in the town centre,” she says. “The meeting was aimed at coming up with ways to move forward. Some good ideas came out and we are going through them now before formulating a plan.”

Lunchtime and business is brisk again at Kate Owen’s burger van as I pass on the way back from the town centre. The Chinwag Cups are out and smoke rises from the griddle, obscuring the words on the big sign over the entrance to the burnt-out steelworks: “Forever Passionate About Steel”.