In the heart of rural Wales, the town of Llanfyllin once revolved around a building that, while now vanished, remains etched in the collective memory of its people. The old Town Hall—also known as the Market Hall—stood for nearly four centuries at the bottom of Market Street, acting as both the beating heart and the symbolic soul of Llanfyllin’s civic life. Its story, and the broader tapestry of life in Montgomeryshire and Radnorshire during the early 1960s, offers a window into a way of life that has changed, yet endures in spirit and tradition.
Records show that as far back as 1590, a hall stood on this very spot, its existence tied to Llanfyllin’s medieval charter granting it the right to hold markets and fairs. In those days, such privileges were not just a matter of commerce but a source of local pride and autonomy. The covered hall provided a practical center for trade, drawing in farmers from surrounding valleys with livestock, produce, and rural crafts. These markets didn’t just sustain the local economy; they wove the fabric of community life, connecting otherwise isolated farming families and forging a shared identity that would last for generations.
The hall underwent a significant transformation in 1791, when it was rebuilt in locally made brick—a material that was starting to define Llanfyllin’s core during the late 18th century. This new structure embodied the typical Welsh market hall design of its era. The ground floor, with its open arches, offered a sheltered yet airy space for traders to hawk their wares, while the upper storey became the town’s principal meeting room. Here, the borough council gathered, local courts such as the courts leet and petty sessions were held, and civic events unfolded. The hall was, in every sense, a marketplace, courthouse, and community center rolled into one—a focal point for both the daily grind and the ceremonial milestones of Llanfyllin’s residents.
As the years rolled on, the building itself evolved. Some of the open arches were bricked in, a practical move to provide more shelter and warmth as the climate and the needs of the town changed. Yet, through all these modifications, the Market Hall remained central to Llanfyllin’s sense of place. Early 20th-century photographs still show its distinctive proportions dominating the lower part of Market Street, its upper windows gazing out over the bustle of market days and the gatherings of townsfolk below.
But by the mid-20th century, Llanfyllin—and rural Wales more broadly—found itself at a crossroads. The winds of change were blowing, bringing with them new pressures and priorities. Increased car traffic, stricter building regulations, and modern ideas about civic design all began to make the old hall seem outdated, even inconvenient. In 1960, after nearly four centuries of continuous use, the decision was made to demolish the Market Hall. The move was emblematic of a broader shift: a desire for modernization, but also a profound sense of loss. No new building rose in its place; instead, the site was cleared, leaving an open space that subtly but unmistakably altered the balance of the street and the character of the town center. For many in Llanfyllin, the absence of the hall still speaks volumes—a silent testament to how architecture can give form to the life of a community.
To truly understand what was lost, it helps to look at the broader context of life in Montgomeryshire and Radnorshire during the early 1960s. According to contemporary accounts, in 1961—before the creation of the county of Powys—life in these regions was shaped by sparsely populated hills, small market towns, and an economy still dominated by agriculture. Hill farming and livestock, especially sheep and cattle, formed the backbone of local incomes, with arable land confined mostly to the more fertile valley soils. Most farms were small, family-run enterprises, relying on the hard work of relatives and low operating costs rather than high output. Mechanization had made some inroads, but was far from universal, particularly on the more marginal land.
Socially, these counties were defined by close-knit rural communities, vibrant chapel and church life, and the enduring influence of traditional local institutions. Weekly livestock markets, agricultural shows, and farmers’ clubs weren’t just economic events; they were the glue that held communities together, reinforcing a sense of identity rooted firmly in the countryside and in Welsh rural traditions. Photographs from the era—whether of Llanfyllin Primary School staff and pupils, or the proud line-up of Caersws Football Club—capture a world where community spirit and continuity were prized above all else.
Yet, beneath the surface, there were growing anxieties. Parliamentary debates in 1961 highlighted the persistent problem of depopulation and the steady drift of young people from rural Wales to industrial centers or England in search of better opportunities. This migration contributed to an aging local population and raised serious concerns about the future viability of essential services and local schools. Housing and infrastructure in some areas, especially in Radnorshire, lagged behind more urbanized counties; even by the 1960s, a significant number of homes still lacked piped water or modern amenities.
Economic opportunities beyond farming were limited. Employment often centered on small-town services, local government, road and land maintenance, and tourism linked to the picturesque landscape and spa towns like Llandrindod Wells. The Mid-Wales Investigation of the early 1960s drew attention to structural challenges—scattered settlements, poor roads, and the difficulty of attracting new industry to these remote upland areas. Despite these hurdles, the resilience and adaptability of local communities shone through. Weekly markets and agricultural shows continued to bring people together, serving as vital social occasions that reaffirmed a shared rural identity.
The story of Llanfyllin’s lost Market Hall, then, is more than just the tale of a demolished building. It’s a microcosm of the changes that swept through rural Wales in the 20th century—a story of adaptation, resilience, and, inevitably, loss. While the physical structure may be gone, its legacy lives on in the memories of those who remember market days, council meetings, and community gatherings beneath its roof. And in the open space that remains at the bottom of Market Street, you can still sense the echoes of a time when architecture and community were, quite literally, under one roof.