Paul Stewart

Words and Photography by Sebastian Elder

'Persevere’. Leith’s one word motto embodies the tale of its past, whilst also rallying for the tracks of its future. And in a parallel fashion, the verb has come to define the life of 'Leither', Paul Stuart. 

Though born in Yorkshire, Paul’s upbringing took place on the shores of Leith, a dynamic borough to the north of Edinburgh. Now legally part of Scotland’s capital, Leith’s pursuit of identity and self-determination has been undermined throughout its history, largely for the promise it possesses as a gateway to the sea. A stark example dates back to 1920, when a plebiscite was held opposing the amalgamation of Leith by Edinburgh. The overwhelming ‘No’ vote was ignored outright, fusing Leith reluctantly with its neighbours to the south. More recently, Margret Thatcher’s perilous policy design pushed Leith into economic disarray, prompted by the closure of the Henry Robb shipyard in 1968. This ignited the infamous ‘Trainspotting’ era, a perfect storm of unemployment, exploitation and heroin. 

It was against this backdrop that Paul entered the world. The son of a violent alcoholic father, home was no haven in his youth; often within the confines of the storage cupboard that constituted his bedroom, Paul’s father would expel his rage unto him through an abhorrent range of abuses, both physical and psychological. In accessing his medical records just last year, Paul learnt that this had been his reality since the age of one. Occasionally, Paul and his mother would flee to her parents’ in England, but for reasons incomprehensible to him, it was never permanent. And so, he took to running away on his own, once getting as far as Leeds, just 12 years old. I asked him how it felt, hiding in train toilets, preferring the fear of the unknown to that at home. He simply chuckled and recalled: 

“It felt great to be away.” 

The day Paul turned 16 he left home for good. He slept beneath the archway of an unemployment office in Leith that night, his first of what would come to be many with no place to call home. It didn’t take long for the void of guidance to steer him trouble’s way. He peaked early in this respect, thanks to a perilous friendship with a boy named Frank. Then, a disgruntled employee, Frank roped Paul into petrol-bombing his place of work. 

A side note on Frank: A slightly older friend, Paul described him retrospectively as a “psychopath”. He recounted an experience with Frank which took place on a balcony in a pub on Rose Street; Frank - wanting to steal a jacket from an American marine drinking downstairs - 

polished off his pint before tossing it behind his head, inciting havoc below. If this echoes a scene featuring perhaps Leith’s most famous antagonist - a “Franco” Begby - it’s because, in all likelihood, Frank forms part of the true inspiration behind Begby.

The resulting thousands of pounds of damage put Paul in both the papers and prison. Abuse found him once more on the inside, at the hands of an inmate, a guard, and a prison-doctor. And yet, expressing his unique capacity to extract teaching from trauma, Paul reflected upon this experience as one of the best things that ever happened to him; although his name would appear in the news again later in life, that was his first and last sentence served. Leaving prison, Paul faced a road of trepidation, and while in some respects it’s one he remains on today, it has also led him to incredible places, making him a man as abundant in stories as any you will ever meet: If you’re interested in any other ‘coincidences’ that suggest this I would recommend asking Paul directly, perhaps even taking his ‘Trainspotting’ tour.

Paul has lived in places from Leith to London, Spain to Fort William, known the ‘gangsters’ within prisons and the people within gangsters. Paul has worked a wider variety of jobs than many could name, performed on comedy tours and been published in a luxury lifestyle magazine. He’s indulged deeply into both love and drugs, encountered death and birth, cycled in and out of homelessness 15 times over. And of course, no such collection of life’s offerings would be complete without 15 minutes of fame; in 2004, Paul opened Scotland’s first ever cannabis cafe, attracting the attention of papers, television broadcasts and radio shows the world over. Though none of these feats measured up to perhaps the most challenging and rewarding opportunity of all: fatherhood. 

Still, the love, the running, the distractions and lessons - they could only offer so much escape: 

“Because I had such a shit childhood, I didn't think I was able to be a Dad. I was scared… I hadn’t dealt with my trauma… when my son was born that set me back - all the memories came back”. 

In his time, Paul has made three serious attempts to end his own life, and three times - as he put it - “fate intervened”. The most momentous such time took place upon a cliff in Spain. Stood there, desperate to rid himself of unimaginable pain, a priest passed him. Paul wasn’t to be convinced that his life would be saved by some act of God, but by something much more simple and tangible; the priest told him that were he to take his own life, his children would be more likely to do the same. That idea helped to change his life, reminding him of the purpose that has defined it: to persevere. And not just in his own journey, but in that of anyone who he may stand to help.

Since the age of 15, Paul has advocated for women’s rights in Scotland, supported Palestinian solidarity and been pro-Scottish independence as a means of creating a more equitable nation. Today, he is a tour guide, sharing under-told chapters of Leith and Edinburgh. His knowledge is as vast as his enthusiasm is contagious, revealing his refreshing appetite for life’s stories. This has been his profession for the past 9 years, in which time he has consistently evaded homelessness - his longest spell since that first night as a 16 year old. He now also helps to train others experiencing homelessness do the same. Speaking to Paul today, I see someone who has absorbed every blow life could throw, and come away learned, loving and passionate. But to assume the story ends here would be to underestimate those blows, and the scars they have left beneath. 

“I’m a fighter. I’m still here. I’m 58 - I should be dead by now… But I’m not saying I’ll never be homeless again.” 

It was a confident Spring day as Paul opened up to me, outside a cafe a short walk from the Water of Leith. At even intervals, the much-locally-critiqued tram would glide by, with a hum

and a rattle and a ding of its bell. But it's only in looking back that I pick up on the metaphor; the amalgamation of Leith in 1920 was branded under the ‘The Boundaries Extension and Tramways Act’. Though much has changed since then - and indeed this exact tram is relatively new - it speaks to the irrepressibility of history, the persistence of memory, and the ambiguity of ‘progress’. 

For Paul, it seems, home is an ongoing battle. And though I’m sure what I’ve learned from him is but the tip of the iceberg, I feel confident he will continue to emerge victorious.

Thank you for reading. If you have any comments or questions, feel free to get in touch. Also, below you can find out about how to book one of Paul’s tours - something I highly recommend, be you a tourist or local: 

Paul’s Tours: https://www.pauljamesstewarttours.com/

Email: sebelder03@gmail.com | Instagram: @seb.elder