The stories the city likes to tell itself
Bristol has long and chequered history, rich and diverse and full of invention, achievement and ‘world firsts’. But the story the city has told itself about itself over the years has long been not quite the full picture – from the slaves they used to keep in Redcliffe Caves to the myths about Brunel and the Suspension Bridge.
So what are the stories about Bristol that some people swear are true? And how true are they? We investigated and found that, while some of the legends around the city are way off, there’s plenty more for Bristolians to be proud of about their city and its history.
1 There’s a crocodile in the New Cut
Back in 2014, a bus driver waiting at the lights on Bedminster Bridge swore blind he saw a crocodile in the River Avon New Cut below him. Others came forward and said they saw something like a crocodile too.
Now, we’re not saying we don’t believe these people thought they saw a crocodile, and there very well may have been something strange in the water. There have been reports of porpoises swimming as far up the river as Conham, so it might well have been something….
But it’s too cold for crocodiles really… and the huge tidal ups and downs make it impossible. When the tide went out, and the water level dropped, then people would see it more.
Truth level – 0/10 sorry.
2 Totterdown’s name
A well-known and much-repeated myth that gets recycled by other Bristol media and YouTube travel guides and the like, but no it’s not true.
Let’s break down the etymology of the wonderful Totterdown. So ‘down’ comes from the old word for ‘hill’ – like the Downs of Clifton and Durdham. This old English word survives in the word ‘dune’ for a hill made of sand, by the way.
And ‘Totter’ comes from what travelling traders were called back centuries ago. Back in medieval times, they would arrive and set up camp on the fields overlooking what is now Temple Meads, basing themselves there before heading into the city to sell their wares.
Truth level – 0/10
3 – Bristol invented bungee jumping
Picture the scene – it’s April 1, 1979, and a chilly, grey early morning up in Clifton. A group of men are walking around the area near the Suspension Bridge in morning suits and carrying bottles of champagne. Suddenly, they are on the bridge, tying strange-looking elasticated ropes to the bridge and to their ankles and in a couple of minutes had leapt over the edge, the ropes stretched to stop their descent and there they were, dangling in the air somewhere between the bridge and the water below.
It was, effectively, the world’s first bungee jump. It nearly didn’t happen – the friends, sisters and girlfriends of the men were so distraught at their plans they called the police, begging them to stop the attempt. The police staked out the bridge, and did confront the men, but decided it was all an April Fool, and no one would seriously consider throwing themselves off the Suspension Bridge tied to the elasticated ropes used to catch jet fighters landing on aircraft carriers.
READ MORE: ‘We didn’t test it first, that wouldn’t have been dangerous’ – 40 years on from the world’s first bungee jump
They were hauled up, arrested and spent the rest of the day in police cells before being released with no charge.
So it was that the Dangerous Sports Club invented bungee jumping. It doesn’t quite get a full ten out of ten rating on the Truth-o-meter… the crazy men of the Dangerous Sports Club were inspired by something similar, but different.
The land-divers of the communities on the southern part of Pentecost Island – part of the Pacific island nation of Vanuatu – had for centuries had a rites-of-passage ritual that involved young men proving their worth by constructing scaffolding towers, and then leaping off with their ankles tied to vine ropes.
They survived if they made sure the ropes were springy enough to provide a bit of elasticity, and were short enough so they didn’t hit the ground. This came to widespread attention in 1970 in a National Geographic article, and in 1974 when Queen Elizabeth visited and the island chiefs staged an ill-advised demonstration – ill-advised because it was the wrong time of year, the vines were too wet and one of the participants died.
Truth level – 8/10, the land-divers of Pentecost Island ended up on the ground, whereas bungee jumpers are hauled back up.
4 The door at the Hatchet Inn
Every YouTuber visiting Bristol calls by the Hatchet Inn, and repeats the myth that the door is covered in the tanned skin of a human being – the legend is that it was the skin of a hanged convict.
It’s in all the guidebooks and history books, on the walking tours and the pub boasts it, but there is little evidence it actually is.
It’s apparently there, under layers of black paint, but there is no evidence apart from folklore to suggest it’s actually true, and the Hatchet Inn has resisted any requests for the door to be scientifically examined – after all, it’s part of one of Bristol’s oldest pubs and is a protected listed building.
Truth level – 3/10, it could be true in theory, but it’s unlikely.
5 TV presenter Johnny Ball has a road named after him
It would be great if Johnny Ball Lane, a steep alleyway that drops from Upper Maudlin Street opposite the BRI down to Lewins Mead, was named after 1970s and 80s children’s TV presenter, and father of Zoe Ball, Johnny Ball, but alas no it’s not.
The Think Of A Number man made maths fun for generations of children, but the alleyway was called that long before he came along.
No, it was named after John O’Ball, who kept a friary in the neighbourhood in medieval times.
Truth level 0/10
6 The Bristol Zoo car parking man
It’s been a story that goes ‘viral’ every few years on whatever new platform comes along, from email chains in 2000 to Facebook in 2008 to YouTube and BlueSky and whatever else comes next, probably.
The story is that a guy took the money from people parking their cars outside Bristol Zoo for years, and then suddenly wasn’t there anymore. For decades, he’d been keeping the money because the zoo thought he was employed by the council and the council thought he was employed by the zoo.
This story goes around the world every so often, and it almost always is about Bristol Zoo, but it’s not true – the car park outside the zoo in Clifton – which closed in September 2022 – was owned by the zoo.
But – there is a tantalising part in this story, that at least indicates where it could have come from.
READ MORE: ‘There is truth’ behind the urban myth of the Bristol Zoo parking attendant
People started driving to visit Bristol Zoo in cars from the 1920s, and as car ownership increased, particularly in the 1950s, they started parking on the Downs. The Downs were seen as public land, owned by the people of Bristol, but a small army of volunteers went and collected ‘donations’ from people parking their cars, and it was all a bit messy.
From 1958, these had to be authorised by the Downs Committee, and from 1983, the zoo itself, but where the donations went is unclear, and drivers could in theory refuse to pay. These volunteers didn’t start wearing uniforms until 1988, when it all became a bit more regulated and a system of parking stickers was introduced.
Truth level – 3/10
7 The Floating Harbour was supposed to be a ring road
It’s the late 1960s, the Bristol Docks have begun a worryingly rapid decline as business moves increasingly to Avonmouth and Portbury. Faced with what everyone could see would be decades of urban decay around the city’s famous Floating Harbour, the city’s planners had an idea: drain the docks, fill them in and this will provide the space for dual carriageways and motorways.
This was a plan regularly revived in the 1970s and 80s – in fact the docks only survived because a plan to turn it into a ring road was defeated by just six votes at one meeting.
In the 90s, the tide had turned. Inspired by the regeneration of London’s Docklands, where flats overlooking a waterfront were seen as fashionable and something out of a Nescafe Gold Blend advert, the water was saved and the warehouses were either demolished for or converted into nice luxury flats.
Truth level – 9/10, it very nearly did happen, yes.
8 The slaves of Redcliffe Caves
Bristol’s historical links to the Transatlantic Slave Trade is still a touchy subject for many, but generations of Bristolians were brought up without being educated about the city’s key role in the Transatlantic Slave Trade.
But one myth about it that appears to have embedded itself in the city’s consciousness is one connecting slaves with Redcliffe Caves – that thousands of slaves over years were kept prisoner in the caves at Redcliffe, close to the Floating Harbour.
There’s no evidence for this, and it reveals a fundamental understanding of Bristol and the Transatlantic Slave Trade.
The point of the ‘triangular trade’ is that the enslaved people from west Africa went on the second journey to the Americas, and only relatively small numbers ever made it to Bristol – generally, as the enslaved servants of the plantation owners returning to Bristol.
While there were black faces in Bristol throughout the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, the likes of Pero, the enslaved servant of the Pinney sugar baron family, would not have been imprisoned in any cave.
Truth level – 0/10
