Princess Street fire succeeded where Nazi bombers failed

This is my latest column, published in today's Scotsman (4th August 2026).

As a rule, derelict buildings are more likely to catch fire than your average fully functioning structure. Setting aside conspiracy theories, poor maintenance of electrical or safety systems, vandalism and careless workmen can all cause problems.

So it was no real surprise when the old Debenhams building on Princes Street was gutted by fire. Given the state of Edinburgh’s premier thoroughfare, it’s a wonder that only the old Jenners and now Debenhams have gone up in smoke – so far.

But it’s not the fire in a derelict building that’s remarkable, it’s the aftermath and the way Edinburgh’s authorities have handled, or rather mishandled, it that is the cause of concern. It seems the upper parts of the Victorian building may be unsafe and, instead of making it safe, the entire breadth of Princes Street has been closed until further notice.

This, of course, includes the closure of the tram line to Leith, now Scotland’s most densely populated neighbourhood. The line has effectively been cut in half and, for some reason, no one can figure out a way of getting a tram past the blockage so that a ‘both ends to the middle’ service can be temporarily put in place, shuttling back and forward until the building is made safe.

This begs the question: who is actually in charge? Who has the grip and the power to make things happen? I suspect there is no one, and that’s the problem.

It wasn’t always like that in Edinburgh, and an incident I have been writing about recently is a perfect example. Exactly 86 years ago, Edinburgh faced one of its biggest conflagrations, and handled it rather differently.

In the early hours of September 29, 1940, the city was attacked by a German bomber force. There had been air raids since late 1939, and a number of people had been killed when bombs fell on Leith, but the raids had been sporadic and mainly inaccurate. This time it was different.

Just after 4am, parachute flares were dropped over the Dalry area of the city, brilliantly illuminating the west end of the city. Less than an hour later, a second bomber force arrived and dropped high explosives on the clearly visible bonded warehouses of the Distillers Company’s vast and highly inflammable estate at Duff Street.

The target was well chosen, and millions of litres of spirit went up in a huge blaze that could be seen from Perthshire. In all, nearly 90 houses and commercial buildings were destroyed with a huge area devastated. Remarkably, due to well-practiced air raid precautions, no one was killed. As soon as the bombers had gone, the recovery started.

Everyone knew their job. While the fires were still being fought, salvage crews were at work. ‘Clear up and carry on’ was the mantra. There was no faffing about in 1940. The arteries of the city were open the next day.

It can be deceptive to trust too much in rose-tinted retrospect. Notwithstanding, from the evidence I’ve seen, I have little doubt that had the Debenhams building burnt down in 1940, the trams would have been back on track in short order.