IN New York the streets might have no name but in Abergavenny they definitely do, and it’s one in particular we’re focusing on this time around, and that as these eye-catching photos by Albert Lyons suggest, is Flannel Street.

So called because Abergavenny’s once famous flannel used to be produced here the street was also once known as Butcher’s Row because you guessed it, there used to be a lot of meat and bone sellers in the vicinity, including the delightfully sounding Mrs Jones’s faggot shop.

All in all, there were five butchers and a slaughterhouse in this part of Aber. Sounds like a vegan’s nightmare doesn’t it?

One of the most famous Butcher's Row stores was Mrs. Jones's faggot shop, and her customers claimed her black puddings were the best in the UK by a country mile!

Back in the day, Flannel Street was twice as long as we now know it. It didn’t run straight but twisted serpentine. However, the slum clearances of the late 1950s and early 1960s changed this neck of the woods beyond all recognition.

A report in a 1957 edition of the South Wales Argus under the headline ‘Clearing the way for a new Abergavenny,’ reads, “Streets that have stood for centuries at Abergavenny will soon be reduced to rust and rubble by bulldozers which, battering their way through history, clear a patch for development of the future.”

The Town Council was in full agreement and the clerk Mr. T.G. Hardwick explained, “This scheme has been in the minds of the town council for many years, and now, with the emphasis laid on slum clearance by the present government, they are able to proceed with it and are tackling the problem energetically.”

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and although Abergavenny town centre is now designated a conservation area, back then, with the exception of the late nineteenth century house inLinda Vista and Old Court, much of old Abergavenny, including Tudor Street, Castle Street, Mill Street, and Byfield Lane was deemed to boast “nothing of architectural interest” and reduced to rubble.

Under the watchful eye of Cardiff architect, Sir Percy Thomas, Flannel Street and other unique and historic parts of old Mother Aber were slapped, slammed, smashed, torn, bashed, and bulldozed into oblivion.

Ironically, once the demolition ball had already swung, the buildings in Tudor Street were found to be a lot older than their facades suggested.

Beneath the layers of wallpaper and paint that had accumulated over the generations, early 17th-century interior decorations from when Tudor Sreet had been a wealthy and very desirable residential area were found.

The decorations were almost unique in Wales, but by then the bulldozers had moved in and nothing aesthetic or historic was going to stop them from getting the job done!

Fortunately, many townsfolk managed to salvage much of the unique and historic oak paneling, windows, doors, furniture, and fireplaces of Aber’s ‘old slums’ for posterity.

During the demolition of Flannel Street, one of the most intriguing finds was an old tombstone that had been laid face down on one of the buildings.

Upon the stone was inscribed the burial of William Jenkins who died in 1782, his daughter Rachel (1778), and son James “of this Town Breeches maker (1812) and of Mr Zacharius Laurentius Appelt “Later Quartermaster in 58th Regt, who died the 6th of August 1795 aged 34 years.”

Nevertheless, despite recording and storing many of these finds, much was lost that will never again be found.

Such as most of the seventeenth-century houses that once littered Flannel Street and gave it its dizzy air of wasted elegance.

However, as you can see from one of the pics, a few old faces remain, such as the drinking den of delights known as The Hen and Chickens.

The building dates from at least the reign of William IV and at the turn of the 20th century the ‘Chicks’ was renowned as something of a high-class restaurant.

One boozy night of splendour in 1911, notorious Newport Supertramp W.H. Davies enjoyed more than a few jars here and wrote, “O what a merry world I see/Before me through a quart of ale.”

After a heavy session, the super tram retired to his chambers and made sure the door was sufficiently blocked to deter any stray chancers.

Waking up to some curious noise in the early hours, Davies grabbed his sword-stick and attacked the intruder. Only to discover it was his coat and cap he had hung on the night post the night before.

Such are the trials and tribulations of a gentleman of leisure.

Chicken Street, which was once a short thoroughfare leading from Flannel Street to St. John’s Street is also no more, but courtesy of these old-time photos we can get a real feel for the flavors with which old mother Aber cooked way back when.