A resort town built on hospitality eventually built a school to teach it — and the story of how that happened runs through Portrush for over sixty years.
A rates vote that almost failed
Inspired by neighbouring Coleraine’s technical school, Portrush Urban Council debated the idea in December 1909. A proposed rates increase of a penny in the pound to fund it was initially voted down — but a second vote succeeded, and by June 1910 the Department of Agriculture and Technical Instruction had approved a technical school for the district. It opened that October on Kerr Street, under Principal R. Gordon Blaine, teaching carpentry and joinery, building trades, cookery, dressmaking, drawing, shorthand and typewriting, alongside maths and English.
By 1927 the Kerr Street building — with 92 students enrolled — had been outgrown. A new two-storey building went up on Dunluce Avenue, on land leased from the Earl of Antrim, opening around 1930. It’s still standing today, now derelict.
From general trades to hotel training
In the 1930s, at the instigation of the Ulster Tourist Development Association, the school added “Small Hotel and Boarding House Management” classes — a natural fit for a seaside town. After the Second World War, the North Antrim Technical Education Committee decided in March 1950 that Portrush should host a dedicated hotel and catering training establishment. A two-year Hotel and Catering Trades Course launched on 17 September 1951, with the local hoteliers’ association guaranteeing above-average pay to graduates — overflow classes used the Royal British Legion Clubrooms and the Station Café while space was found.
The Hotel and Catering College was officially opened in May 1957 by Lady Brookeborough, wife of Northern Ireland’s Prime Minister. It later moved to a purpose-built college on Ballywillan Road, opening in September 1972, with the original technical school’s remaining functions transferring to Coleraine. The Dunluce Avenue building went on to serve as the town library and a youth club before falling into its current derelict state — a quiet, empty landmark with a genuinely busy past.