Big Gun pub aka Great Gun , Wicker

[crookedspire]

When visiting Sheffield like to pop in the Big Gun well since the soil sports closed the Cannon anyway. It's a typical Sheffield pub basic but has its charms do you recall any past landlords or events ?

[arrodbo]

My cousin Stuart Turton always went in during the 70s80s90s, he loved singing and did one or two songs in there.

[stpetre]

My cousin Stuart Turton always went in during the 70s80s90s, he loved singing and did one or two songs in there.

 

Ken Cooney was landlord/owner (It was a 'free' hose, not tied to a brewery) for a few years.

[bantycock]

Was a pub of two halves in 80" s tap rough and ready best side spotless with dress code lol

[Historyphil]

Hello each, A name to conjure with The Big Gun ! I went past it on the bus on an almost daily basis once going then coming from work, it seemed to sum the town up at that time; ‘The Big ‘Un. The first time I went in was as now legal apprentice drinker, just after I turned 18 making it late 1968 with some lads from work, at about 6 pm ready for mi first ‘black un’. “A couple int’ gun then inter town, Ye Ha” . It stood on a corner of ?? St and frontage on the Wicker, on the right hand side going into town. It seemed very posh to me; a sprung back rest with red velvet covering, wood panelling on the walls, cubicles with tables and chairs in in them and a carpet. It also sold food; Liver, chips, mushrooms and tom’s for approx. 2/- all heroic size portions, but that came later. As we stood there that first time all in our muck, and working togs signs to all that we were maeisters, a Bar maid just stood there looking at us in in disbelief (this was also my first remembered withering look from an adult female, melted mi bone marra’). “Bloody Hell! Get round t’ back, what do you think this is a circus? No not that way” as we tried to go through the connecting door, “OUT, OUT! OUT t’ way ya cumin.” Then to a mate who foolishly said something along the lines of “ I’ ve got money, I’ve earned mi money and al spend where I like”. (Even today I’m sat chringing writing this). “OUT! OUT! Bloody Hell! I’ve got money. Any body thinks they can come in ‘ere nowadays , OUT! ar’ ya fresh outa Wadsley? OUT!”

 

All this to the amusement for several hard types, the kind who when in a pub you avoided making eye contact with if you knew what was best for you, sat in a corner cubical who began calling; “Out Out are ya fresh outa Wadsley” later one of the lads said he only let ‘em get away with it because it was bad form to tackle a woman.

 

So we went out into street had a brief confab; did we slink off defeated or stood to our manhood and go in for a pint? Foolishness got the better of us so we went into the back door. The landlord(?) reading a paper on the bar glanced up then looked back down, totally ignored by everybody in there, talk about tumble weed rolling past. Then the same bar maid appeared “Right lads, Five pints is it”? Eee lads, I’ll tell ya, I’ve had to sling a team of tramps outa Best Side, what’s world comin to eh”? Then I realised she had shoulders and biceps like a weight lifter, those old siphon pumps made a woman out of her.

 

Went in many times after but did I (we) know who was boss - yep we did.