66 Wind Street: Extra Portion

66 Wind Street

Today, 66 Wind Street is home to the cocktail bar The Perch, but the history of this corner building is far richer and more dramatic than its modern appearance suggests. Over the course of the nineteenth century, it was associated with scientific pioneers, civic reformers, and seafarers whose lives were shaped by Swansea’s global maritime connections. Few buildings on Wind Street can claim such a varied and compelling past.

Charles T. Wilson: Chemist, Civic Leader, and Early Tenant

One of the earliest known residents of 66 Wind Street was the chemist and druggist Charles T. Wilson, a Swansea‑born pharmaceutical chemist who trained under Mr Samuel Dawe, whose chemist shop stood on the corner of Temple Street from 1846. As a young apprentice in Dawe’s shop, Wilson frequently encountered two notable scientific figures: Sir William Robert Grove, the pioneering physicist whose 1846 work On the Correlation of Physical Forces anticipated the modern theory of energy conservation and who later became a QC involved in the William Palmer “Rugeley Poisoner” trial and the Talbot v. Laroche photographic patent case; and Benjamin Hall, another prominent figure of the period. Wilson later claimed that he supplied Grove and Hall with the glass bottles and jars used in their early electrical experiments—an extraordinary link between a Swansea apprentice and the formative years of modern energy science.

Wilson’s own career blossomed after his apprenticeship. Establishing his pharmaceutical business at 66 Wind Street, he became a familiar figure in the commercial heart of Victorian Swansea. His influence extended far beyond his shopfront: he served as a Town Councillor, became Chief Magistrate in 1868, and funded several drinking fountains around the Swansea docks. His commitment to social improvement was further reflected in his roles as Guardian of the Poor (eventually Chairman of the Board), member of the Swansea School Board, committee member of the General Hospital, and honorary secretary of the South Wales Institute for the Blind.

By the time of his death in 1890 at Brynnewydd, Sketty Green, Wilson had become one of Swansea’s most respected public figures. His burial at Oystermouth Cemetery marked the passing of a man whose life intertwined scientific curiosity, professional dedication, and civic responsibility.

After Wilson: A Changing Premises

From Chemist’s Shop to Take‑Away Outlet

Following Wilson’s death in 1890, and during the period when the seaman William Caldwell was living at 66 Wind Street, the character of the premises changed dramatically. No longer the respectable chemist’s shop of Wilson’s era, the building had become a modest take‑away food outlet, serving the passing trade of sailors, labourers, and late‑night wanderers along Swansea’s busiest thoroughfare.

Complaints and the Medical Officer’s Visit (1891)

By 1891, the shop had already attracted the attention of the Swansea Medical Officer of Health, who had received several complaints about the “business of frying fish” carried on there. Wind Street was no stranger to strong smells — breweries, stables, and public houses all contributed their share — but whatever odours drifted from No. 66 were evidently enough to prompt official action.

The Medical Officer visited the premises and advised the proprietor, John Morgan, that he must adopt:

“the best practical means for abating such nuisance or counteracting the effluvia arising therefrom.”

In short: improve the ventilation, or the neighbours would continue to complain.

A Minor Crime with a Memorable Twist

That same year, the little take‑away became the scene of a small but colourful crime. A Morriston labourer named David Jones entered the shop one evening and asked for a portion of fish. Mrs Morgan, recognising at once that he was drunk, refused to serve him. Jones, affronted and emboldened by drink, seized a cooked leg of pork from the counter and bolted out into the street.

His escape was short‑lived. Later that evening, a police officer found him at Landore, the stolen pork tucked under his coat. He was arrested, brought before the magistrates, and swiftly convicted of theft. His punishment was stark: he could either pay a 40‑shilling fine or serve one month in prison — a harsh outcome for a man whose evening had begun with nothing more ambitious than a craving for fried fish.