It's working

THERE'S a warm fug in the lounge of the Acomb Working Men's Club: drifting cigarette smoke mingled with the clink of glasses and neighbourly chat. It is lunchtime, and the club is filling up with members who have dropped in for a quick pint with friends.

They are mainly men in their 40s and 50s, with one or two women. A younger man sips his pint at a table in one corner, alone in company, flicking through the pages of a newspaper.

At his favourite table, the club's oldest member, 92-year-old Alwyn Wilson, is "chatting up" the blonde sitting next to him, 44-year-old Ruth Bell. "Don't take a photo of me holding a pint," he jokes as photographer Mike Tipping comes across to get his picture. "My mother will play hell!"

The club lounge is like a pub, but not. Friendlier than a pub, points out Ruth. The sort of place a member can drop in any time and know they will run into old friends.

"It's like we're all neighbours," says club secretary Frank Healy, bringing his own pint over.

"The members are a fabulous bunch, lovely people. It's the kind of place where you can leave your keys or your pint on the table and know they will be there when you come back. A community."

He's not just saying that. You can see it's true from the way he casually borrows one member's pint for a photo: taps another on the shoulder as he walks past. Everyone here belongs: everyone is comfortable with everyone else.

In a society that seems to be fragmenting even as we watch, the kind of community spirit you find in clubs like this is priceless. Which is why it is such a tragedy that so many appear to be struggling.

The Acomb club is thriving - membership stands at more than 2,000, with a waiting list of those keen to join. But the same is not always true elsewhere.

York is a city undergoing enormous change. Traditional industries such as coach-making and Terry's are on the way out, to be replaced by new, high-paid jobs in the biosciences and finance.

As this change gathers pace, many clubs - a legacy of the city's proud working-class past - are in trouble.

Across the city they are being targeted by property developers keen to convert the buildings into plush new flats. Four clubs closed in just over a year: Fulford Road WMC, the INL, Layerthorpe WMC and the York City Arms.

Lawrence Street WMC says its premises are now "too large" for its existing membership and is looking to move to a smaller home. And the Promenade WMC in St Benedict's Road remains locked in dispute with developers even though councillors threw out plans to demolish it and replace it with flats.

Kevin Smyth, national general secretary of the Working Men's Club and Institute Union (CIU), admits it is a picture repeated across the country. "One third of clubs are doing pretty well, one third are holding their heads above water and one third are struggling," he says.

The Acomb club is one of those that is doing well. And it represents much that is best about the great tradition of working men's clubs.

Frank Healy says that when it was founded in 1898, its aim was as much to provide a service for what he calls the "underprivileged" as to be a social centre. It had links to the trades union movement. "And it was founded on a social but also educational basis," he says. "It was a place where people could come to learn and read and also have access to a library if they could not afford books."

Over time it developed into the classic working men's club; the kind of place where son proudly followed father to become a member, and to take advantage of the sporting and social activities it offered.

Today, in addition to the regulation darts, snooker and pool tables, the club also runs other sports and social groups - everything from angling and indoor and outdoor bowls to men's and women's ramblers groups. There are bingo nights, regular performances in the concert hall and organised trips. The club is also big on fund-raising.

"We've just organised a very successful fund-raiser for the Yorkshire Air Ambulance," Frank says. "And Diane Diane Simpson, wife of club steward Geoff Simpson is doing something for Candlelighters. We're close to the target of £3,000."

This is a club that is clearly far more than just a place to come for a cheap drink, although it does prides itself on its low prices. Above all, it's a place that looks after its own. Former railwayman Alwyn - 49 years and nine months on the railways, mostly as a guard, he says proudly - has been a member since 1938 or 1939.

"Just before the war, anyway," he says.

And where else but in a club like this would you find a 92-year-old who lives in sheltered accommodation receiving such a warm welcome when he pops in for a lunchtime pint?

Most working men's clubs offer the same. So what makes this one continue to be a success, while others are falling by the wayside?

Part of the problem with many clubs is their old-fashioned image, according to Jackie Medley, who recently retired as secretary of the Bishopthorpe Working Men's Club.

"There's this stigma of cloth caps and whippets," she says. "People expect spittoons and grotty seating." The very name working men's club doesn't help, she says. There's an old-fashioned feel to it. "And it's also detrimental to those who don't work."

And to women. Too often, Jackie says, there is an old-fashioned attitude at clubs to go with the image: particularly in the way they treat women. Although still a member of the Bishopthorpe club, she resigned as secretary after fighting for equal rights for women in the club movement for more than 20 years.

Her grouse was that the Club and Institute Union does not permit to have women associate membership, which allows them to visit other clubs without having to be the guest of a member. The final straw came when she was invited to a meeting of club secretaries, but was not allowed to speak. That led to her declaration: "The cavemen have won!"

Part of the reason for the Acomb club's success is that it is trying to keep up with the times. Money has been ploughed into new computer and security systems, and the lounge is warm and comfortable, far from the spittoons and grotty seating of tradition. Frank has also extended the opening hours since taking over.

Another reason for its success is its location. "In a local area like Acomb, people are more community-spirited with each other," points out club member and doorman Paul Kitchen. "We look after our own." Exactly the spirit that drives clubs like this.

Even here, not everything is perfect. Women can be members, for example, and there is a thriving women's section; but they don't have voting rights the way male members do.

But if the membership is anything to go by, the club's attempts to change are working.

Jackie Medley believes that more clubs have to change if they are to survive. They have to accept women as equal members, she says, and they have to go all out to attract younger members and families.

They also need to improve their image - brightening up the decor, and bringing in more trendy drinks to appeal to a younger membership.

If they don't, they could face extinction. And that would be a tragedy, she says, because for all their faults they are a unique part of British life.

"As a woman, I feel I could walk into a club on my own anywhere - although I can't, because I'm not allowed to," she says. "I wouldn't walk into a pub. But I would walk into a club. It is a different atmosphere, more friendly. People just start talking to you. It would be such a shame if they were going to be lost."

Such a shame if in York they were to go the same way as the carriageworks and Terry's.

Updated: 11:10 Thursday, October 14, 2004