Ambassador Memories
A collection of personal recollections and anecdotes from people who visited or worked at the Ambassador Super Cinema in Salford, both during its time as a cinema/theatre and later as a Mecca bingo hall. Contributors share their memories of family members who played a role in its history, from musicians like Violet Carson to projectionists, managers, and usherettes.
Building the Ambassador
Brenda Hird : " My grandfather, Gustav Peterson, was born in Liverpool to a family of Swedish descent.
A highly skilled master builder, he later married in Salford and contributed to the construction of the Ambassador many years ago. His craftsmanship and hard work brought the building to life."
Working at the Ambassador in its Cinema Theatre Days
Memories of Violet Carson at the Ambassador :
Violet Carson, later famous as Ena Sharples in Coronation Street, was fondly remembered by many who worked with her or were patrons at the Ambassador for her time as a pianist in the cinema.
Violet was a member of the Ambassador Symphony Orchestra, performing on its opening night and appearing as an artist in her own right throughout her early musical career.
In the mid-1970s, Granada aired a late-night Friday programme called Red Roses Every Night, named after the WWII cinema code used to alert patrons of an imminent air raid. The show recreated a classic evening at the pictures, featuring film trailers, cartoons, government information films, newsreels, a support film, and a feature presentation. Each episode highlighted a special guest who returned to a cinema they were closely associated with, sharing personal anecdotes and selecting the evening’s film content. At some point during the programme, a slide would appear with the warning Red Roses Every Night.
Violet Carson, best known as Ena Sharples in Coronation Street, was the first featured star, and she chose The Ambassador as her cinema.
In addition to being a cinema, the Ambassador was also a stage for many musicians who brought silent films to life and a place where early careers were shaped. Violet was in the ranks of many talented cinema pianists. Still, in those days, she was better known for her performances at the Ambassador, sometimes accompanying singers or playing alongside fellow musicians. "My Aunt, Margaret Mather/Gaughran used to play the piano there for silent films," recalled one contributor. "She shared the work with Violet Carson. Sometimes she played the violin with Violet Carson accompanying her on the piano."
Violet Carson plays at the Ambassador -
Manchester Evening News - Thursday 12 December 1929
For some, this pianist was a family connection. "My great-gran used to sing at the Ambassador and Violet Carson would play the piano for her," remembered another. Others knew her personally, including one contributor, Colin Burrough, whose great-aunt, Annie Wilson, was her understudy. "I knew her personally: my gran's youngest sister, Great Aunty Annie (b. 1901), had filled in for her, tinkling the ivories at the silent pictures in Manchester, for some Saturday matinees." The connection remained for years, as memories of the pianist tending her roses in Bispham remained vivid: "We’d chat about Annie."
The impact of these musicians extended beyond the cinema. "Violet Carson taught my dad to play the piano at the Ambass," Albert Johnson recalled, with his father working there in the 1930s before the war. Cath Lomas recalls that on occasions when Carson was unavailable, others stepped in to take her place. "On days Violet Carson was unavailable, my Great Aunty Margaret used to play instead. Sometimes they’d duet, because GAM played violin as well as piano."
Later in life, Carson returned to the stage for a special moment, presenting a medal to a young performer Colin Burrough,at the Winter Gardens Pavilion in Blackpool. "She was nothing at all like battle-axe Ena Sharples, but a lovely, warm, gracious Lancashire lass (OK, perhaps Grande Dame) of old. Loved her to bits XXXXX."
The Ambassador’s musical history is deeply embedded in its past, remembered by the families of those who played there, ensuring their contributions live on.
Annie Wilson
Violet Carson's understudy pianist in the silent movie days
Life as an Usherette – Mishaps, Memories & Ice Cream
For many, working at the Ambassador was more than just a job—it was a place of camaraderie, youthful misadventures, and lasting memories.
Christina Keates had always dreamed of selling ice cream, but her first attempt turned into a scene straight out of a comedy.
“I misjudged the edge of one of the steps and slipped, sending tubs of ice cream flying everywhere. Everyone laughed when someone shouted, ‘Ices are down!’ Luckily, I was fine, but the manager wasn't amused—I was banned from selling ice cream after that.”
Her streak of bad luck didn’t end there. “One Sunday, I showed a man to what appeared to be the last available seat. When he sat down, he plummeted to the floor—the seat was missing! Though he wasn’t hurt, I got a telling-off from the manager.”
Despite it all, she still looks back on her time at the Ambassador with great fondness.
For others, being an usherette was a job they cherished. “In 1956, I would get off the bus from work and go straight to the Ambassador as an usherette, often selling ice cream. I loved that job.”
Families, too, were intertwined with the cinema’s history. “My mum and auntie, Mavis and Anne Ellerby, both worked there in the late 50s as usherettes. Mum and Dad met there too—still together after celebrating their diamond wedding anniversary.”
Some usherettes became part of the Ambassador’s legacy, like famed playwright Shelagh Delaney, who once skated to the cinema as a child and later worked there before penning A Taste of Honey. “In later life, my auntie was very involved in the campaign to save it.” (Jane Delaney).
From scooping ice cream to showing guests to their seats, usherettes were the heart of the cinema—whether they meant to make people laugh or not!
* Shelagh Delaney, famed for her work 'A Taste of Honey' and a former usherette at the Ambassador, who agreed to serve as The Ambassador Project group's Patron."
It's surprising that there were a number of anicdotes about getting free entry by legitimate or nafarious means. "My wonderful sister-in-law Barbara Rylance worked there when I was a kid and would let me and a friend in free so I had a lot of friends then!!
The Ambassador Cinema was more than just a building—it was a world brought to life by the people who worked there. From the moment guests stepped inside, a team of dedicated staff kept everything running smoothly, creating an experience that felt special.
For some, the Ambassador was like a second home. “My mum worked at the Ambassador in the restaurant in the 1950s when I was a little girl. It was an amazing cinema with a ballroom and restaurant—a beautiful building inside and out.”
Others were part of the daily routine, keeping everything spotless. “My mother worked there in the sixties; she was one of the cleaning staff. Sometimes we were even allowed in free.”
It's surprising that there were a number of anicdotes about getting free entry by legitimate or nafarious means. One such recollecction was, "My wonderful sister-in-law Barbara Rylance worked there when I was a kid and would let me and a friend in free so I had a lot of friends then!! Another person said, "We used to go to the Saturday matinee, sometimes sneaking in by a side door. "
The cinema’s sense of grandeur extended to those who managed it. “I lived on the same road as the manager, Mr. Jones. He used to go to work every evening in a dinner jacket. How times have changed!”
Behind the scenes, the projectionists worked to bring stories to life on the big screen. “My brother was a projectionist there in the late 50s.”
Some staff took on leadership roles, ensuring the smooth running of the cinema. “My mum was the Manageress there in the 60s, Doreen McMullen, now sadly passed.”
And for the families of those who worked there, it sometimes meant a front-row seat. “My Dad used to work at The Ambassador Cinema in the 50s & 60s. I remember going with him sometimes and watching the film (for free, shh.) while he worked.”
The Ambassador wasn’t just a place to watch movies—it was a place of community, where families built memories and staff took pride in being part of something special.
Going to the Ambassador Super Cinema
Saturday Matinees & Childhood Memories
The Ambassador Cinema was the place where childhood adventures began. Every Saturday morning, eager children would line up, clutching their sixpence, ready for a few hours of magic on the silver screen.
"I remember seeing Flash Gordon
and Emperor Ming really scared me."
“The Ambass, where not a seat was ever empty… Cowboys where the baddies and goodies were cheered and booed loudly.” The air buzzed with excitement as kids crammed into the packed cinema, without a parent in sight, waiting for the show to begin.
For many, Saturday afternoons in the 1950s and 60s were the highlight of the week. "We used to go regularly to matinees on Saturday afternoons in the 50s to watch Flash Gordon, The Three Stooges, etc."
Week after week, familiar faces would return, eager for another thrilling episode. “Batman and Robin definitely going over a cliff in the Batmobile… and next episode jumping out well before they got there.”
Some films left a lasting impression — “I remember seeing Flash Gordon and Emperor Ming really scared me.”
Others sparked dreams and adventure, as children poured out of the cinema, pretending to be their favourite heroes, galloping home like the Lone Ranger.
Saturday Morning Pictures AKA Children's Matinee
British Pathé film 1963 (no sound)
For one group of young regulars, the Ambassador was more than just a cinema; it was a club, a community. “I was one of the original 'Ovaltinies' and went to Saturday morning matinees there with my older sister. Good memories.”
Special events like the PG Tips party, where prizes were hidden under random seats, balloons were handed out to the girls, and badges pinned to the boys, added to the magic.
Memories of the Ambassador stretch far beyond the screen. The chewing gum stuck to a new coat, the thrill of sneaking into an ‘A’ rated film, and the excitement of watching stories unfold on screen—all these moments became part of growing up. "Loved the Ambassador, used to go on Saturdays as a kid." The Ambassador was at the heart of many childhoods, leaving behind memories that still shine as brightly as the flickering film reels of years gone by.
Memories of Films & Cinema Experiences
The Ambassador was a doorway into new worlds, a place to escape the hum-drum reality of every day life, a gathering spot for families, friends, and loved ones. For many, their first-ever film remains a vivid memory many years later.
“Went to my first ever film there! Summer Holiday with Cliff Richard.”
Others recall being captivated by epic adventures on screen. “I remember seeing many films there, one being Zulu. And when we came out, my brother said to my Dad he wanted to be a Zulu when he grew up.”
Western classics played a huge part in the Ambassador experience. "Went every Saturday morning to see Cowboys and Indians with my brother." Some films left a lasting impression, shaping childhood heroes. "Saw The Alamo there as a kid—John Wayne was great in that film."
Charles Hawtrey in Snow White Pantomime
The cinema was also a place for shared experiences with loved ones. "Went to see the Beatles film It's A Hard Day’s Night with my mam, Aunty Olive, and cousin Kim." For others, it was a neighbourhood staple. " Those were great times; I lived a 3-minute walk from the Ambass so that was my local." Some even made a day of it, hopping from one cinema to another. "For me, Langworthy (cinema) in the morning and the Ambassador in the afternoon."
Not all experiences were about the films themselves. For one nervous moviegoer, romance took a backseat to fright. "Went there on my first date, film on was Dracula—spent all night looking at the floor!"
Meanwhile, live performances also left their mark. "I saw a pantomime there in the early 60s with Charles Hawtrey as the star. Lovely memories of my Mom and Dad."
Whether it was the thrill of a Saturday morning kids’ club, a well-known actor in Pantomime, or the magic of the big screen, the Ambassador was a place where memories were made, where stories unfolded both on and off the screen, and where each visit left behind echoes of laughter, excitement, and wonder.
Love & Lifelong Memories at The Ambassador
The Ambassador Cinema wasn’t just a place for film and entertainment—it was the backdrop to love stories, first dates, and lifelong commitments. For many, it was where romance first blossomed.
“My first date, we met outside the ‘Ambass’.”
Some connections made there turned into lifelong partnerships. "Met my wife-to-be at the Ambassador... been married now for 56 years, happy days."
For young couples, the cinema provided the perfect setting for a bit of courting. "As a teenager, I have fond memories of the Ambassador, especially the double seats on the back row—perfect for a kiss and cuddle with a girlfriend."
First kisses happened in the flickering light of the big screen—sometimes with unexpected results. "Kissed a girl for the first time in there, but I picked a moment when it was really dark and ended up kissing her right on the end of her nose!"
Some love stories started inside the theatre. "I met my husband in the Ambassador in 1963."
Others recall the cinema as a place where young romance turned into lifelong companionship. "I went there regularly in my teens with my girlfriend who lived on Sutton Flats. We married in 1959 and are still together!"
And for some, their love story has spanned decades. "I met my husband there in 1958, and we have now been married 60 years."
But the Ambassador’s role in these love stories didn’t end with first dates and courtship. It also played host to wedding receptions, marking the beginning of new chapters. "We had our wedding reception here after the wedding at St. Luke’s Weaste in 1956. 69 years this year!"
The upstairs function room provided a space for intimate celebrations. "My Mum and Dad had their wedding reception there in 1952!"
Ambassador Wedding Reception – June 1931
For so many, the Ambassador would be a place where love stories began, leading to vows being exchanged, and where memories were made that lasted a lifetime.
A Cinema at the Heart of the Community
The Ambassador Cinema wasn’t just a place for films, theatre and social gatherings—it was woven into the daily lives of the community, a landmark where people gathered, shared moments, and even learned of historic events.
At times, it became a place where shocking news was delivered mid-film, moments that stayed with people forever. “My husband was there when they stopped the film to announce the Manchester United plane crash.”
Others recall the painful moment of being sent home from a screening. “I remember them interrupting the film and sending us home when it was the Manchester United air crash. Very sad.”
British Pathé film 1958
But the Ambassador also witnessed moments of joy and national celebration. “Always remember going to the pictures there on VE Day and wondering what all the fuss was about. When we came out, what a great day it was—people dancing in the streets.”
For some, it was tied to the rhythms of everyday life.
“Every year, the local newsagents closed for an annual holiday, so the papers were on sale outside The Ambassador.
I remember buying my dad’s Guardian in the summer of 1963, and the headline was about President Kennedy’s new baby son passing away. Three months later, JFK was assassinated in Dallas.”
The cinema stood as a quiet witness to history unfolding.
British Pathé film 1963
The Final Curtain Falls for the Ambassador as a cinema
As the years passed and the golden era of cinema gave way to modern changes, the Ambassador neared its final showing. For those who were there, the last screening was a poignant moment. “I was one of the few in the Ambas at that last showing of a film and closure of the cinema.”
There was a quiet sense of farewell, softened slightly by one last act of kindness. “I went on its last day as a cinema. They were showing Marnie and everyone got a free ice cream or lolly.”
Though the cinema’s doors eventually closed, its place in the hearts of those who spent their childhoods, first dates, and unforgettable afternoons there remains untouched.