Rough and tumble on Blood and Guts Street

February 11, 2004

JOLLY BUTCHER'S YARD
(Ber Street)

THERE was a time when Ber Street, one of the most historic streets in Norwich, was a rabbit warren of courts, yards, alleys and lanes.

Old Ber Street, where the Jolly Butchers was a favourite haunt.

They were home to hundreds of men, women and children. Up and down the street were enough shops to stock a town.

And the people of Ber Street spoke of “going up the city” as if the rest of Norwich were foreign territory.

They don’t come much older than Ber Street. It is thought that it was once a Roman route. From Norman times it led to the formidable barbican by the castle, where public executions took place.

It was also known as Old Blood and Guts Street. Butchers’ shops, a slaughter house and plenty of pubs gave it a robust image.

Then the Italians formed their own colony in Ber Street — men with black moustaches and gold rings in their ears; olive-skinned women with high-piled black hair and flashing dark eyes.

They set up businesses selling ornaments and statuettes, made ice cream in the summer and roasted hot chestnuts in the winter, hawking them around the streets.

And it was one of those Italians who stayed on as Ber Street tumbled down around her… to become one of the greatest characters Norwich has seen in recent times.

Her name was Antoinette Carrara, but she was known as Black Anna, the singing landlady at the one and only Jolly Butcher’s.

Today Anna has gone. The pub is closed — it is now Norfolk and Norwich Families’ House — but the yard has survived.

The Jolly Butcher’s, also known as the Three Butchers at one time, opened as a Bullards pub in 1806.

A century ago it was run by the Day family. A long brick building at the back was the last common lodging house in the city. Up to 70 men stayed in three dormitories and they paid sixpence a night and did their own cooking. All sorts stayed there — from street musicians to boxers.

Black Anna entertains her customers back in the 1960s.

In 1935, Jack and Anna Hannant took over, and she went on to be mine host for more than 40 years. She started singing to please the customers and anyone who met her never forgot her.

When the Yanks arrived in the Second World War, they couldn’t believe what they were hearing and after the war in the 1950s and 60s, it was the number one city pub for music and atmosphere.

The place was packed. They all wanted to hear her sing the Ber Street Blues. She was more than just a great singer — she was also an entertainer.

“If you like me, like me. If you don’t, I won’t twist your arm,” she told the Evening News in 1967.

We didn’t just like her. We loved her. She died in 1976.

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