ABSOLUTELY PREFAB HOMES TO LIVE IN
By John McLeod.
7 October 1995
They were built after the Second World War as temporary homes; now some are being listed as part of our social heritage
Home may be a humble, two-bedroom prefab, but to Lawrence and Pat Attenborrow it's a palace, which is at last getting the recognition it deserves. "It has been listed as a building of historical significance," Mr Attenborrow says.
"The prefabs here were built in 1945 and were intended to last only ten years. But this is their 50th anniversary year, and ours is in much the same condition as when we moved in 28 years ago." Mrs Attenborrow adds: "It's cosy and we wouldn't want to move elsewhere."
Their home is one of a group of 17 prefabricated bungalows listed by Birmingham City Council and being considered for national listing by English Heritage. Andrew Saint, an historian, says: "Nobody could say prefabs were beautiful or that they were the most important architectural statement of the era, but this is a small concentration of typical prefabs in good condition, and you get a real sense of period and social history of the time."
Prefabs were originally built as temporary "homes for heroes" to ease the housing shortage after the Second World War. The Government's "Temporary Housing Programme" called for 500,000 homes, each to have two bedrooms, a bathroom, separate lavatory, kitchen with a fridge (because there was no pantry) and a living room.
This sounds basic by today's standards, but 50 years ago a prefab provided a vast improvement in living standards for couples who had been waiting for years on a council housing list, living in rented rooms or squashed in with in-laws. A Mrs Parker, interviewed in January l946, said: "It's grand. I would be prepared to live in it for the rest of my life."
Because of a shortage of traditional building materials, the Ministry of Works allowed prefabs to be built from anything available. At least eight different designs were accepted, with names such as Arcon, Phoenix, Tarran, Uniseco and Universal. Some were built entirely of aluminium, but most used a form of corrugated asbestos-cement sheeting bolted to a steel and timber frame. Former aircraft factories turned to making walls and partitions, and obsolete joinery factories were re-opened for other parts. Each prefab was made up of about 2,000 components, which were assembled on site.
One of the designers for the Uniseco prefab, Dr Harold Rose, says: "The prefabricated panels were a sandwich with a wood-wool filling between sheets of corrugated asbestos-cement. The houses took eight unskilled men eight days to assemble. It sounds crude, but the construction industry learnt a lot about innovation and planning."
Each prefab should have cost about £500, but Dr Rose says the the average was £1,300. Some historians have questioned whether the exercise was worthwhile, but Dr Rose says: "There was no alternative. There was no time to set up brick factories. I often ask myself why we don't make similar buildings today for the homeless."
By the time the temporary homes programme ended in 1951, 156,000 prefabs had been built, 4,500 of them in Birmingham. Rents were 14 shillings (70p) a week and electricity cost eight old pence (less than 4p). Hot-air shafts radiated heat from the open coke fire to other parts of the house. There was a big problem, however: the homes were cold in winter, baking hot in summer, and condensation turned clothes green with mildew.
Most prefabs were demolished in the 1960s and 1970s. Those in the Moseley district of Birmingham survived because of a campaign by residents. They liked living in them and were undaunted by the health scares about asbestos. The homes were not thought to be hazardous but as a precaution, combined with a scheme to make them warmer, the council covered all interior walls with insulated boarding. Engineers say there is no danger from the exterior walls either.
These are the last council-owned prefabs in Birmingham. There is only one privately owned home among them, bought by Olive Webb for £12,600 in l989. "It wasn't easy to get it," she says. "I wrote to Mrs Thatcher to get mine under the right-to-buy scheme. I'm getting central heating put in this year."
Peter Cariss, an estate agent, says Mrs Webb's home is probably worth about £25,000, but getting a mortgage on it would be difficult. "Building societies are not prepared to lend, because of the prefab's non-traditional construction and it would be deemed not to have a sufficient lifespan for the term of a mortgage. Yet it offers good accommodation, and a similar sized bungalow in the area would cost up to £90,000."
The listing of the Moseley prefabs has resurrected some of the interest which greeted their arrival in 1945. People stop residents to talk about them. Barry Walker has shown American tourists round the home he has lived in for 18 years, and it's a rare day without someone stopping to take a photograph.
Not everyone is thrilled to be in the limelight, however. Mrs Moore, who came to the area in 1950 and has lived in the prefabs the longest, can't understand what all the fuss is about. "If I had invented a cure for cancer it would be worth talking about," she said, "but I don't think living here for 45 years is any achievement. Where did you say you were from?"
"The Times."
"Fancy that," she said.