Q&A with Ruth Cherrington

by Jonny Gordon-Farleigh

Published on STIR Magazine #48 — Winter 2025

As part of a publishing series to start a new national conversation about the fate of Britain’s social clubs, our editor Jonny Gordon-Farleigh interviewed Ruth Cherrington, the author of Not Just Beer and Bingo!, a 2011 book that recounts her own personal experiences of ‘clubland’, as well as the wider history of social clubs in British culture.

As part of a publishing series to start a new national conversation about the fate of Britain’s social clubs, our editor Jonny Gordon-Farleigh interviewed Ruth Cherrington, the author of Not Just Beer and Bingo!, a 2011 book that recounts her own personal experiences of ‘clubland’, as well as the wider history of social clubs in British culture.

Though the club movement became a democratic force in society, it started life in the 1860s as the charitable initiative of paternalistic reformers. A couple of decades after the launch of the Clubs & Institute Union (CIU), its members’ democratic demands would create a new version of “club life” that would not only be sociable, but provide an opportunity for “training in self-government” for the working class. Can you explain how clubs supported the development of local democracy at this point in history?

Many of the early clubs predate what we would recognise as a club ‘movement’. In the 1850s, it was more of a grassroots initiative than a top-down one. We could think in chicken-and-egg terms: which came first, the early clubs established by groups of working men, or a charitable movement to help men to establish their clubs? There was not one pattern prepared in advance for early club founders to adopt, but there was a shared sense among working men of the need for self-managed social space, as opposed to it being controlled by ‘them above’. So many clubs were established through the men’s own initiative, efforts, and money rather than through a charitable group of paternalist reformers. 

There were clubs already in existence when the CIU was established by the teetotal Reverend Henry Solly in 1862 (then called the Working Men's Club and Institute Union – the WMCIU). This new institution did not instigate the setting up of clubs, but facilitated it, with Solly raising donations for nascent clubs from wealthy individuals. But some clubs were self-managed from the start, and their founders were not seeking patronage. Some soon folded, while others expanded and continued well into the twentieth century. There was certainly a tension between the patronage model – which gave more control to wealthy donors – and the self-management model – where members would raise their own funds and be independent. Solly recognised this and intended the clubs to be self-run, small-scale democracies, knowing that members did not want to be told what to do in their own clubs. Eventually, the clubs with patrons dropped them in favour of self-management. The WMCIU, a nascent institution itself, also learnt as it went along. It was there to assist, offer advice and guidelines, but not to dictate regulations for all clubs. Self-management and democracy were nurtured with the WMCIU offering support for any club that sought its help through affiliation. 

Clubs are often treated as a mystical presence in British culture, despite their historical scale – more than 4,000 venues across the UK at its peak in the 1970s – and despite the recent decline of social infrastructure leading commentators to link the lack of social space with many of the major challenges we face. What is the “club model” and what can it offer as a formula for a new generation of civic spaces?

The club model that developed from the mid-nineteenth century was based on self-management, with clubs run by an elected committee of members. They were owned by their members, who paid annual subscription fees, and they were also private, with only members (and their families) allowed in – people couldn’t just walk in off the streets (as with pubs). This particular dimension gave club members a strong feeling of ownership and control. The actual setting up of a club was a shared project, from finding premises – and in some cases building them – to raising the finances. It was often a DIY approach with limited resources. 

The non-profit aspect was also very important. One reason why so many working men wanted to start clubs was that they felt pubs took too much from them, with pressure to ‘stand a round’ so that the pub owners could turn a profit. In those clubs that opted to have beer and other alcohol – the majority – the idea was to supply rather than sell, with any money raised from its sale used to help run the club and its facilities. 

Today, the vast social and cultural changes would mean some adaptation, but there are examples already out there. Fostering a sense of shared ownership has been in evidence in communities raising community shares to save local pubs, for example. Crowdfunding is, in many ways, the twenty-first-century equivalent of people ‘clubbing together’ to establish a social space. Once an endangered pub has been purchased and saved by local investors, the members often take on the work of refurbishing and running it, as club members did and still do. These new ‘owners’ can then decide on the facilities and activities of the club themselves, as was the traditional way with clubs. 

Your own personal connection to this history is regularly visiting your local club in your hometown of Coventry. In the post-war period, you suggest that the city council was “quite radical” in allocating land for new clubs and understanding their role in “community building”, particularly within the creation of new neighbourhoods. What role do you see for local government in not only protecting the legacy of clubs – through using local planning powers to prevent change of use and gentrification – but also making new clubs an essential part of future housing development?

There is potentially a very important role for local government in terms of protecting existing but endangered clubs, and also ensuring that future ones are part of new housing developments, for example. Unfortunately, in the past few decades we have seen very little support or positive action from local councils. There would need to be a sea change in how councils view clubs and their contributions to local communities and individuals. 

Protecting the legacy of clubs that are still open should be considered in terms of what they provide for members and their role in helping to reduce social isolation, particularly among older people. Club numbers have been decimated in the past few decades, and every time one closes, many are left with nowhere to go for social contact, to have a game of snooker, darts, or bingo, or just to have a chat. I’ve had people whose clubs have been under threat plead with me to help them save their clubs. But when a council can earn more money by selling off the land for property development, there is nothing much to be done. 

It’s heartbreaking to see the destruction of some very lively and loved social spaces, so we need to work with councils so they can understand what clubs have traditionally provided and to discuss what can be done to update the model for the modern era, while keeping what is best from the past. Where new housing estates are built, and given the new Labour government plans to build 1.5M new houses over the next five years, social spaces should not be an afterthought for public authorities or outsourced to the private sector. 

At its peak, this national network of clubs “provided the largest collective venue for live entertainment in the country,” a breeding ground for musicians, comedians, and other performers. With the loss of 15% of the UK’s grassroots music venues in the past year alone, could part of the revival of social clubs be in reprising their role as a cultural space for the development of new and young performers?

Yes, absolutely. Clubs have continued to support new and young performers, but with far fewer clubs around now and the costs of running them increasing, it’s harder to offer stages and concert rooms for free or at low cost. Clubs could also reach out to local talent and offer, if not free, then cheaper space in which to practise and hold gigs. For example, clubs back in their heyday ran free ‘shop window’ sessions, often on Sunday mornings, where performers could show what they could do. Entertainment secretaries from other clubs would attend and, if they liked what they saw, would book some of the acts. Starting local can offer a way into more nationwide opportunities. Younger people, who might be introduced to the club model this way, are also urgently needed as members get older and use the club less frequently. There are examples of clubs that have been taking this approach, reaching out to different demographics, and it has to be said that these clubs are among the ones still going strong rather than closing down.


Dr. Ruth Cherrington is a British author and sociologist known for her work on working-class culture. Raised in Coventry near Canley Social Club, she developed a lifelong interest in the social history of working men’s clubs. Her book Not Just Beer and Bingo! explores their cultural significance and decline over 150 years. Now based in London, she continues to write and consult, celebrating the heritage of working-class communities.

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The CfDB is a project of Stir to Action Ltd, a worker co-operative registered in England as a Company Limited by Guarantee. Company number 07951013

Our team is based in Dorset, London, and Manchester

Designed and built by Stir to Action Studio

You can subscribe to our newsletter here

The CfDB is a project of Stir to Action Ltd, a worker co-operative registered in England as a Company Limited by Guarantee. Company number 07951013

Our team is based in Dorset, London, and Manchester

Designed and built by Stir to Action Studio