It is often when a resource is becoming scarce that the need to preserve some of it is considered. In the 19th century, open land which was accessible by all inhabitants of an urban area was such a resource. The unbridled growth of the factory economy from the end of the 18th century, and the sprawling, unplanned slums which sprang up as accommodation for factory workers in the emerging industrial towns in the North, the Midlands and in the East End of London, rapidly deprived poorer people of access to open space in the scant hours when they were free to amuse themselves.

The living conditions of urban workers began to excite public concern. While some medical men suspected that insanitary housing in overcrowded neighbourhoods was a breeding ground for disease, more affluent citizens worried that such neighbourhoods were breeding grounds for sedition and revolution.

The question of open spaces for public use came to wider attention when a Parliamentary Committee chaired by MP Robert Slaney considered the matter in 1833 and recommended that public walks were desirable as means of keeping workers away from drinking dens and for fostering attributes such as sobriety and respectability.

Public parks gradually came into being in a piecemeal manner throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries. Some early ones depended on the enthusiasm and drive of key local individuals as local government boards often lacked the necessary legal powers to acquire land or were hampered by vested interests.

The most likely way for a town park to be created was for land to be gifted by a philanthropic donor, or for a public subscription to be raised to buy some. The Botanical Gardens in Sheffield, which were sometimes cited in discussions as an exemplar of public space, opened in 1836. Based on local appetite for a site devoted to healthy recreation and self-education, they were funded by a public subscription, but other than on a few token days each year, entry was restricted to shareholders and subscribers. Public did not necessarily mean free, or available to all.

When Birkenhead Park opened in 1847, it reflected the rise of local civic pride. The Local Board of Commissioners appointed landscape gardener Joseph Paxton, who had made his name in the service of the Duke of Devonshire, to design the park. He blurred the distinction between what was available to the affluent in private gardens and what could be provided for poorer people in spaces that had been designated for their use. If this made Birkenhead Park an exemplar to follow, the following year gave the parks movement a substantial boost. The Public Health Act handed local councils wide powers to address health matters, including the power to provide open spaces for the local population.

Across the country, some towns enthusiastically embraced the concept of a civic park, and innovative councils kept the cost to the public purse low, by selling off land around the perimeter of the site to developers for housing. The homes erected on this land tended to be for middle-class families, who undoubtedly valued the proximity to open space but not necessarily the need to share it with workers. In some places, local clergy restricted the way workers could use the park on their weekly day of freedom, by opposing enjoyable activities on Sundays.

Public space for the masses could be slow to arrive if the personal opinions or interests of a few influential people obstructed local initiatives. Even if the will and the funds were available, progress was impossible if there was no suitable site, which could be the case in a densely built industrial area. Sometimes there was a lack of consensus about which site would be best. Some people thought that a public park should be in an aesthetically pleasing location, irrespective of the accessibility or geography of the site. Others wanted a space that was within a reasonable walking distance for a large number of inhabitants, flat enough for children to play safely and where older people could walk without risk of stumbling on uneven ground. Some advocated that users took the site as nature had made it, while others felt that the opportunities for personal learning afforded by laid-out grounds were essential.

A difference of opinion played out in south-east Manchester in the early 1870s. Samuel Oldham, a local philanthropist, bequeathed £7,000 for the maintenance of a public park for the inhabitants of Ashton-under-Lyne and its neighbourhood. Debate then followed about whether a site which would benefit the inhabitants of the adjacent township of Stalybridge was acceptable or whether the park should be located more centrally within Ashton so that it was easily available for people who lived at the other edge of that town. The debate terminated when a site on the border between the towns fortuitously became vacant and the Earl of Stamford donated land next to this site. It seems probable that other arguments about which site was best were also resolved more by pragmatism than principle.

The subsequent development of Stamford Park shows the welding together of different ideas about public parks. Although the site was visually attractive, it was acknowledged that it needed to be more than trees and grass. Rockeries and flowerbeds were designed and laid out, with paths allowing visitors to admire a variety of flowers and greenery. The land donated by the Earl of Stamford included lakes. These were developed into a habitat for wildfowl and a place for boating. Subsequently a small museum was opened within the park. Where space permitted it was possible for both knowledge and pleasure to coexist. It was a pattern that prevailed in public parks across the land.

Visitors to the park usually had to observe rules and regulations and were not free to behave in a boisterous manner. In a space where the respectable and the rough could mingle, and different people had different priorities, a way for them to coexist was essential. Letters in the local press reveal middle-class distaste for the antics of younger working-class males. A correspondent to the Barnsley Chronicle in 1864 complained about the tennis court in Locke Park, which near to the park’s main entrance. This meant that people who wanted to visit the rest of the park had to run the gauntlet of the noisy crowd of youths by the tennis court making indecent and disgusting remarks.

Park rules included walking only on pathways, not picking flowers, playing games only in designated areas, and not drinking alcohol. Park keepers had a dual function of maintaining the grounds and enforcing the rules. Although some antisocial conduct and criminal incidents were inevitably reported in newspapers, this was not extensive, suggesting that park keepers were largely effective in ensuring that the behaviour of users did not stray too greatly from what was acceptable.

The key to standards of behaviour may be that parks rapidly became a source of local pride and fostered community spirit. It became common for users to donate items to enhance the facilities. Examples include drinking fountains, flagpoles and at least one gymnasium.

By the 20th century, popular parks had a range of activities, even on a Sunday. There were dedicated areas for bowling, team sports and for children. Churches saw the value of public space and organised outings. Youth organisations oversaw physical recreation for youngsters and bandstands provided a venue for regular concerts.

Although the early decades of the 20th century saw more land being set aside for public parks, as the century passed their popularity declined. Maintenance could be costly for a local council and money that had once been spent keeping standards high became difficult to justify when weighed against other imperatives, especially if visitor numbers fell. More people now had a garden and a car, and better public transport meant that workers too could leave the immediate locality for recreation.

Even if less well used and maintained, parks had a special advantage. The land often had restrictions that made it hard to dispose of. Then the pendulum began to swing back as local communities found benefits in local green spaces away from traffic, even if what they required was not what their ancestors had needed. Some parks even became eligible for public funding to help restore former glories or develop new uses.

Values, though, have changed. Grant bids now involve consultation with users, enabling their priorities to influence how the park is used. This is a far cry from the paternalism of Victorian society, when the personal wishes of a funder often determined what was to be available and how it should be used.