Somewhere Over The Rainbow
Abandoned for the last 20 years, there is no doubt that the White Swan Hotel on Piccadilly provides a depressing indictment of modern town planning. A 50 room mock Tudor monstrosity which has been left to rot opposite two of the city’s biggest banks, whilst developers push for the hotly contested ‘shoppergate’ project to be constructed near Clifford’s Tower. But two weeks ago the empty, gaping windows of the hotel were brought to life following the occupation of the White Swan by a squatting collective, drawn largely from the riverside anti war camp at the Millennium Bridge. The windows are now covered in swirling murals, providing a visual statement that is difficult for York residents to ignore.
Inside, renovation has begun in earnest as the new residents repair and decorate the dilapidated interior of the building. I passed through the entrance to find myself in the old hotel bar, which forms the main communal area where the inhabitants smoke, talk and relax. The atmosphere is open and friendly, and everyone seemed happy to share their particular story over a cup of coffee and a cigarette. It is a diverse group of people that inhabit the Rainbow Hotel. Seasoned squatters from other collectives as far away as Bristol, rub shoulders with homeless people, students, and direct action protesters from the riverside camp. However, regardless of background, all the residents share one thing in common: they are there because they want to be.
The motivations behind the occupation are almost as varied as the people themselves. For some of the people I spoke to, it was simply a secure place to sleep. For others it is a political statement, an extension of the peace camp that sprang up near the Millennium Bridge at the beginning of the war. Like many of the anti-war protests preceeding and during the conflict, the hotel acts as a catch all symbol for anyone with a cause to fight. The literature plastered on the front windows includes disparate causes, from anti-animal testing to anti-capitalism, a lack of focus, which at first roused my suspicions. However, what became clear early on was that the Hotel is much more than a loose collection of protesters representing some vague political ideal. The main function of the peace Hotel is a practical one.
Complete with an office and computers, the organisation of the commune is impressive. The residents hope to be connected to internet by the end of the week, and there is no shortage of willing assistants with the technical knowledge to set up a website. The intention is to contact other groups involved in similar projects, and swap ideas and advice that would benefit the Hotel’s flourishing micro-community. I interviewed Damien Colman, an experienced advocate of communal living who has lived in communes up and down the country. Originally from Harrogate, Colman displayed an impressive knowledge of the problems which face York’s poorest and most desperate. He spoke of the cities worsening drug problem, an issue which seems to receive little coverage in the mainstream press. Heroin addiction in York is a real concern, and this is highlighted in a forthcoming film by Kevin Curran, the son of one of the Peace Hotel residents. Curran, a former addict himself, follows the lives of heroin addicts in York, providing an unparralleled insight into this pressing local issue. The film, Stranded on Cloud Nine, is showing in the City Screen from May 19th to 22nd. Colman outlined many ways in which the Peace Hotel could begin to address these problems.
He pointed out that many of the city’s addicts had "fallen through every safty net that society can provide". This inherent distrust of ‘official’ charities, or prehaps simply fear of condemnation, prevents many addicts from seeking help. The Peace Hotel would seem to provide a less intimidating, supportive enviroment in which people could seek help. Colman suggested that the commune could offer a needle exchange, or perhaps even a community food scheme that would actually be used by people caught up in the heroin sub-culture, intimidated by outside organisations.
But plans for the Peace Hotel go further. A recurring theme expressed by the interviews was a desire to turn the derelict building into an open arts centre, a place where people who would otherwise have no opportunity to, could go to paint, write poetry or simply aid the renovation. The Hotel already boasts an impressive art gallery, evidence that the inhabitants aspirations are not merely pipe dreams, but an attainable reality. The Hotel has also provided a venue for various musical events, the latest being an open trance party in the basement which I attended on Saturday night. This, as Colman pointed out, gave young people in York something to do, a focus that could draw them away from other, more nefarious pass times. The police have not intervened in any way since the Hotel was occupied; the residents think that this has a lot to do with the fact that the commune contains and rechannels the energy a lot of anti-social elements, who would otherwise be out on the streets.
It has not been easy though. Security at the Peace Hotel is tight, and with good reason. There have been several attacks by alledged rightwing groups, possibly because of the residents strong anti-war stance. In one instance, traffic lights outside the Hotel were dismantled and thrown at the windows in an attempt to gain entry. But despite this, the Hotel is looking brighter than it has done for years. Its owners, Graham Families Settled Estates Ltd, have begun legal proceedings to evict the Hotel’s unwelcome guests. The first court hearing is 12th May, and it is unlikely that the residents will be able to hold onto the Hotel for long unless significant pressure is put on York City Council to intervene. Yet considering that these are the first guests the Hotel has had for 20 years, the moral question of who deserves to retain the building is far from straight-forward.
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