Would you get in a lift that never stopped? One without doors, or buttons?

The Pontecorvo building, one of the featured artworks on the Brutal Glasgow Trail, was home to a rather remarkable feature: a paternoster lift! 

So what exactly is a paternoster? A paternoster is a passenger elevator made up of a chain of open compartments that move in a slow, continuous loop up and down inside a building without stopping. Passengers step on and off while the lift keeps moving. It was remarkably practical too, as paternosters could move large numbers of people efficiently through a building without the stopping and starting of a conventional lift. The name comes from the Latin for “Our Father”, because the looping chain resembles rosary beads.

The Pontecorvo stood at the junction of Church Street and Dumbarton Road, forming ‘molecular corner’ alongside the Virology Building. Originally known as the Genetics Building, it was renamed in 1995 after Guido Pontecorvo, the University’s first Professor of Genetics, affectionately known as ‘Ponte’.

The buildings were first conceived by Hector Hetherington in 1956 as a key part of a centre for medical excellence, planned following changes to medical education brought about by the establishment of the National Health Service in 1948.

Brutalist architect Basil Spence was engaged to design it, to Guido Pontecorvo’s exacting specifications. His research into Aspergillus nidulans, a common soil fungus, meant that natural light needed to be limited, while the building also had to minimise vibrations from the busy Dumbarton Road. The result was a building with a very solid exterior and, famously, a constantly revolving paternoster, which was intended to help inhibit vibration in the building.

A clever piece of engineering, and a simple part of everyday life

For those who worked in the Pontecorvo, the paternoster was part of daily life, although it often fascinated visitors. Donald Campbell, Research Technician, reminisces:

“When I first saw the Paternoster I was initially a little wary and using the handle to step on, but within a couple of weeks I was jumping on backwards. Some people were always wary and preferred to use the stairs, but with eight floors, nearly everybody quickly got over their fears. It was pretty safe; I don’t recall any incidents causing injury, despite many people jumping in long after the point when they should wait for the next car. Although I do remember someone attempting to step on while carrying a ladder, which got mangled. The visiting students were often fascinated, and some pranked their friends by pressing the emergency stop when the car moved out of sight within the basement or roof to change direction. You were meant to get off before this point, but it was safe to stay on.”

Rob McNab, Head Technician, remembers the building as a remarkably sociable place, where professors, technicians, janitors and other staff mixed together. He tells a little story about the paternoster:

“We used to have a handyman who’d go to Reids of Pertyck at lunchtime for two pints of Guinness. One time, he came back in, went up to the eighth floor to the paternoster room and had a wee sleep. And this day, for whatever reason, he got locked in. Because it was on the roof hardly anybody ever went up there. So he had this ingenious idea. He had a paper and pad in his pocket which he used to note down the jobs. The paternoster carriages went up to the plant room, across and back down again, so he decides to write wee notes and float them into the paternoster carriage to tell people ‘help I’m stuck in the plant room’. He was in there for about 2 1/2 hours I think till someone noticed one of his notes…”