The South Bank

The area between Hungerford Bridge and Waterloo – known to all as the South Bank – has long been recognised as a major arts and entertainment centre. In earlier times, however, this part of the riverside had been either derelict marshland or, later, used for industrial purposes. Laid waste in WW2, the site was then regenerated by both the 1951 Festival of Britain and subsequent investment in the 1960s and 70s, leading to the creation of the South Bank we know today.

For centuries this whole area was just marshland.                                                                                  John Roque’s map of the mid-18^th century shows how

the land then began to be used for industrial purposes. Narrow Wall, the original earthen wall, can be seen running parallel to the river, dividing the development along the river from the pasture land that covered much of Lambeth. By the 19^th century manufacturing plants began to spring up: leadworks, the Coade factory (making artificial stone) and Lion brewery (founded in 1836), as well as several tanneries.

Gradually the area fell into neglect and was then extensively bombed during WWII. The Festival of Britain provided an excuse to clear the debris and inject new life into the South Bank. Held on the centenary of the Great Exhibition of 1851 the Festival was designed to foster British culture and boost postwar economic recovery. For five months it occupied the whole area between County Hall and Waterloo Bridge. Sadly, the only remaining building from the festival is the Royal Festival Hall as, when Churchill came back into power, he wanted everything pulled down, seeing the exhibition as a reflection of socialist propaganda.

A special feature of the Royal Festival Hall, now Grade I-listed, is its suspended auditorium, its construction considered radical at the time. The auditorium is effectively an ‘egg in a box’, the concert hall itself above the foyer cushioned against movement from trains by bars, lecture halls and restaurants. Enjoying panoramic views across the river, the hall was built using modernism’s favourite material, reinforced concrete, alongside more luxurious elements including beautiful woods and Derbyshire fossilised limestone. The large foyers – a revelation compared to the cramped lobbies of traditional West End theatres of the time – were pierced by white columns holding the huge 3,000 seat auditorium above them. The building was substantially altered in 1964 by adding the foyers and terraces to the river side of the building and more dressing rooms to the rear.  The building’s original entrance sequence was much compromised by these and other changes, including the addition later in the 1960s of raised concrete walkways around the building to serve the neighbouring Queen Elizabeth Hall, Purcell Room and The Hayward. The Royal Festival Hall has become one of the world’s leading concert venues and is home to the Philharmonia orchestra.

 Adjacent to the Royal Festival Hall, the complex containing the Queen Elizabeth Hall (900+ seats),
the Purcell Room (370), the Hayward Gallery and the BFI is known as the South Bank Centre. The building dates from 1967 and is a bleak, squat structure with no windows in its foyer. The Queen Elizabeth Hall was famously voted "Britain’s ugliest building" by Daily Mail readers shortly after opening, but clearly people have learned to appreciate it a bit more these days – the whole complex has now (February 2026) been given a Grade-II listing - the last building on the South Bank to be listed - for its “bold geometric formations, clustered to sculptural effect with a correspondingly dramatic silhouette.”

 

Now the UK’s leading repertory cinema the BFI Southbank was formerly known as the National Film Theatre established in a temporary building in 1951 as part of the Festival of Britain. In 2007, it was relaunched as BFI Southbank. As well as the three existing cinemas, the complex included a new small cinema (the studio), a médiathèque, a contemporary art gallery dedicated to the moving image (the BFI Gallery), a shop, and a bar and restaurant.

In 1848, London publisher Effingham Wilson was the first to call for Britain to have a national theatre, in a pamphlet entitled ‘A House for Shakespeare’. But it would be another century before a law would be passed releasing funds - £1 million pounds of public money - for such a project. The foundations were laid in 1951 but financial difficulties halted its progress until 1963 when the architect Denys Lasdun was appointed. In fact, so slow was progress that at one point critics Kenneth Tynan and Richard Findlater staged a mock funeral for the National Theatre next to the foundation stone! Construction eventually began in 1969 and what emerged was an assembly of rough-cast concrete blocks and slabs. The pyramidal structure of concrete decks is punctuated by lift towers and ventilation shafts. Lasdun always claimed it was not a building but an ‘urban landscape’. The public (along with Prince Charles) never liked it and Private Eye nicknamed it the ‘National Car Park’. The theatre finally opened to playgoers in 1976 and today comprises the Olivier, Dorfmann and Lyttleton Theatres.

 The South Bank buildings are loved and hated in equal measure, many people struggling to love their brutalist style, their unashamed use of raw, unfinished materials, bold geometric shapes and massive forms which challenge traditional ideas of what buildings should look like. And yet the South Bank continues to attract visitors from all over the world coming to enjoy a cultural offer that never disappoints.

References:

Chris's London: architecture walking tour of the South Bank: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7NqEUZWNQg

 

 

London’s Gates

The gates into the city of London have long since disappeared (all demolished 1760-1767) but their names linger on in the names of streets and districts of the modern city.

The Romans built a fort around 120 AD. Between 190 and 220 AD a defensive wall went up, made of Kentish ragstone. This structure, 6 metres high and 3 metres thick, incorporated one of the fort’s gates (Cripplegate) and created four new ones: Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Ludgate and Newgate. Their function, unsurprisingly, was to control traffic in and out of the city and allow for the collection of any tax due on goods being transported. Aldersgate was added by the Romans around 200 years later. Moorgate came along much later, in 1415.

 

Roman Londinium showing position of gates

Engraving for Harrison's History of London 1775

Bishopsgate,

which probably takes its name from the 7^th century Bishop of the city, Erkenwald, led to Ermine Street, the Roman road to York. The original Roman structure was rebuilt in 1471 by merchants of the Hanseatic League who undertook to maintain the gate in exchange for  Henry III granting them trade privileges. 

It was repaired in 1648 and then in 1731 it was completely rebuilt to a simpler design, without battlements. A wall in nearby Wormwood Street bears a bronze bishop’s mitre to mark the spot where the gate stood.

Aldersgate in the north-west of the city was probably built by the Romans in the late 4^th century. By Saxon times, it had come to be known as Ealdredesgate, after a Saxon landowner Ealdred. From the 12^th century the church of St. Botolph stood immediately outside the gate, where it remains today. (Three of the former city gates are next to churches dedicated to the 7^th century Saxon Abott Botolph, patron saint of travellers. In medieval times, when a journey outside the city could be highly perilous, it was common for travellers to pray for their safe passage at one of the St. Botolph churches as they arrived or departed.) Aldersgate was rebuilt in 1617, renovated following the Great Fire, and finally demolished in 1761, the materials being sold off for £91.   

St Botolph's without Aldersgate

Known in Saxon times as the Ealdgate (old gate), Aldgate is thought to pre-date the building of the Roman wall and spanned the road to Colchester, England's former capital. It was rebuilt in the early 12th century. The writer Geoffrey Chaucer lived in rooms above the gate from 1374 to 1385 when he worked as a customs official for the Port of London.

Aldgate

Cripplegate

The name Cripplegate is thought to derive from the old Saxon word crepel, meaning a narrow covered gate or passage. The body of Edmund the Martyr passing through in 1010 led to the belief that the gate had miraculous powers of healing. The gate was rebuilt in 1244 and 1491, and renovated in 1663.

Newgate, which led to the Oxford road and then on to the West, was rebuilt several times: in 1555, 1628 and 1672. The gate was used as a prison from as early as the 12^th century right up until it was demolished in 1767 In 1770, the now notorious ‘new’ Newgate prison was built. This was only demolished in 1904.

 

Ludgate’s name is often attributed to the early British King Lud, but is more likely to derive from ‘flood’ or ‘fleet’, due to its closeness to the Fleet river. It was the gate which led to one of the main Roman burial mounds. Ludgate was rebuilt in 1215, 1586 and then repaired post-1666. When it was finally demolished, its statues of Lud and Queen Elisabeth I (the only public statue ever made of her in London) were removed and now stand outside St Dunstan’s Church in Fleet Street.

 

 

Moorgate takes its name from Moor Fields, a large piece of open land in the city. The gate allowed access to recreational activities there. The last of London’s gates to be constructed, it was originally a narrow postern gate unsuitable for heavy traffic. It was renovated in 1472, and then rebuilt in 1672 when the gate entrances were made higher to enable the elite regiments of the London Trained Bands to march through with pikes held aloft. On its demolition in 1762, stone from the Moorgate was used to strengthen London Bridge.

References:

https://barryoneoff.co.uk/the_gates.htm

https://www.thehistoryoflondon.co.uk/london-wall-and-gates/

https://livinglondonhistory.com/londons-ancient-roman-and-medieval-walls-a-self-guided-walk/

 

 

Bush House 

Celebrating its 100th anniversary this month, Bush House at the Aldwych (you can’t miss it if you’re on the 91 bus to Trafalgar Square!) will forever be associated with the BBC. Although their entire operation has now moved to Broadcasting House in Portland Place, this vast edifice was for many years the home of our national broadcaster. Attending a conference there last weekend gave me the opportunity to have a nosey round and take a few snaps… 

Bush House, Aldwych

  Bush House was designed in 1923 by the architect         Harvey Corbett for an Anglo-American trading       company and was opened by Lord Balfour on             American Independence Day - 4th July 1925. Later            additions were made to the structure in 1928 and 1935.    It cost around two million pounds to construct –
  making it the most expensive building in the world at t    that time - and was named after the American financier    behind the project, Irving T. Bush (below). 

Following an international trade slump and the retreat of businesses from the capital due to WW2, Bush House found itself looking for tenants, and in 1929 the BBC took up residence. 

Made of Portland stone, this monumental building is essentially a cluster of office blocks occupying a dramatic position at the bottom of Kingsway. Its stunning portico features two male statues representing Anglo-American friendship. Beneath these figures is the inscription: TO THE FRIENDSHIP OF
ENGLISH-SPEAKING PEOPLES. 

Early construction before statues installed

The building has an impressively grand interior with attractive art deco light fittings and bronze private posting boxes. 

Bush House is famous for having been the place where Charles de Gaulle made his wartime broadcasts to the Free French and George Orwell (who hated both the building and his job!) was employed by the Eastern Service during WW2. It is thought that the canteen featured in his Ministry of Truth in the book 1984, was based on the one at Bush House. His role also involved lengthy meetings in the building and his infamous Room 101 is also thought to relate to a room there. 

Former Central Newsroom

The BBC (and the World Service, which was headquartered there for 70 years from 1941) both moved out of the building in 2012. 

Having been originally conceived as a luxury trade centre, Bush House was never been intended for use as a centre for broadcasting and over time became increasingly expensive to maintain. 

South Wing entrance

 Now Grade II-listed, the building is currently occupied by King’s College’s Strand Campus. 

References: https://www.bbc.com/historyofthebbc/buildings/bush-house

 The George Inn

These days still a bustling social hub and a great place to eat close to London Bridge, the George Inn is London’s only remaining galleried coaching inn. Despite the mutilation inflicted on the building by the Victorians (in the name of progress, naturally), its original character is still evident both inside and out and it remains a popular watering-hole for local workers and visitors alike.

 Borough High St was once lined with coaching inns, catering to the needs of the large numbers of people travelling into the City over London Bridge (it was the only means of crossing the river right up until 1750) as well as those heading south out of London, particularly pilgrims en route to Canterbury. Most of these inns have long since disappeared but evidence of their location survives in the names of alleyways off the High St, e.g. King’s Head Yard, White Hart Yard, Talbot (Tabard)Yard etc.

The earliest known reference to a Saint George & Dragon Inn is on a map dated 1542 (its name was only shortened in Cromwellian times). We know that it was already well established during the reign of Henry VIII, and that the first known innkeeper was Nicholas Marten in 1558. The George also features in John Stow’s Survey of London of 1598, a time when Southwark was best known for its brothels and bear-baiting: “towards London bridge […] be many fair inns, for receipt of travellers”.

In Elizabethan times, guests would have been entertained by strolling minstrels and players with the courtyard being used as a kind of ‘pop-up’ theatre.

The George escaped the Great Fire of 1666 but then another disastrous blaze occurred ten years later
which raged throughout Southwark for two whole days before being brought under control. More than 500 houses were destroyed, along with the George lnn and all its outbuildings. It re-opened in 1677 and today’s building, with its long coaching yard, original balustraded open galleries and small-paned windows, dates from that time.

During the 18th century, horses, carriers’ carts and coaches used the inn as a London terminus. The schedule included four coaches each day bound for Maidstone, two per day for Canterbury and Dover, and one every day to Brighton and Hastings.

In 1825, the George was described as “a good commercial inn, whence wagons depart laden with the merchandise of the metropolis, in return for which they bring back from […] Kent that staple article of the county, the hop, to which we are indebted for the good quality of the London Porter”. At its peak the inn entertained 80 coaches a week.

By 1844, the inn was being run by Frances Scholefield, a widow. In 1849, with the arrival of the railway starting to eat into demand for coaching accommodation, Scholefield leased some of the premises to the trustees of Guy’s Hospital, which was on the eastern boundary of the original inn, so that they could enlarge the hospital grounds.

For a while, the inn continued to be busy. On census night in 1851, 15 people were staying in the George, including a sailor, an architect, a commercial traveller, two waggoners and a customs house clerk, as well as the resident staff.

But as the railways took over the transportation of goods once brought by coach, demand for accommodation declined sharply and rooms that had once been bedrooms began to be used for sundry other purposes, including by commercial travellers as a place to show their goods.

The George in 1889

In 1874, the President and Governors of Guy’s Hospital sold the inn to the Great Northern Railway Company for £14,000. The GNR wanted to use the building as a goods receiving office and proceeded to pull down the northern and eastern sides of the courtyard to make space for warehousing. Hence only the south ‘wing’ of The George survives.

Fortunately, despite the destruction wrought externally, the interior of the pub retains much of its original character. What is today the Parliament Bar was once the tap room of the pub, a dark space with panelling where, according to Bertram Matz’ book of 1918: “[there] gathered in the old days the coachmen; the Tony Wellers of his day and before, with their long clay pipes and tankards of beer, met to discuss the events of the day and the road, whilst the ostlers saw to the watering and care of their horses further down the yard.”

The Middle Bar today was once the Coffee Room, known to have been frequented by Charles Dickens (it’s mentioned by name in ‘Little Dorrit’). He was evidently well-acquainted with many of the inns of this area, describing them as: “Great, rambling queer old places[…], with galleries, and passages, and staircases, wide enough and antiquated enough to furnish materials for a hundred ghost stories”.

Former Coffee Room

   The restaurant upstairs in the galleried     part of the building is where the guest       bedrooms used to be.

 

 

  

 Now under the guardianship of the National Trust (it was gifted by the LNER in 1937) the George is Grade I-listed due to its status as London’s last galleried coaching inn, and as a location with proven literary    associations.

 

References:

Taverns in Town by Michael Roulstone (1973)

The Times History of London by Hugh Clout (2004)

Coffee room photo from George Percy Jacomb-Hood’s "The George Inn, Southwark": https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50284331

The George Inn Southwark: a survivor of the old coaching days by Bertram Matz:  https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_George_Inn,_Southwark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

St Mary-le-Bow

One of London’s most famous churches, St Mary-le-Bow has a fascinating history spanning many centuries. Familiar to many from a certain nursery rhyme and tales of Dick Whittington, as well as the long-prevailing adage that only those born within the sound of its bells can be regarded as ‘Cockneys’ (i.e. true Londoners), the church thrives today as the City of London’s much-loved parish church.

The church of St Mary-le-Bow has nothing to do with the district of Bow in East London but is located in Cheapside, EC2, within the ancient Ward of Cordwainer, named after the professional shoemakers who lived and worked here historically. Cheapside is one of London’s oldest thoroughfares and gets its name from the Anglo-Saxon word ‘ceap’, meaning to purchase or barter. In medieval times the street would have been lined with warehouses, stalls and small shops. Even today many of the turnings off Cheapside bear the names of products once sold nearby – Bread Street, Friday Street (where they sold fish on a Friday), Wood Street, Milk Street, Honey Lane and Poultry. In the medieval period, ‘high days and Holy Days’ would see the enactment of jousting tournaments outside the church, often viewed by royalty.

 

Although excavation work suggests there was an earlier Saxon building on this site, the first documented church here was founded in 1080 by Lanfranc who was brought to England from Normandy by William the Conqueror to take up the post of Archbishop of Canterbury. Despite being right in the centre of London, the church remained in the diocese of Canterbury until 1850 and is still the City headquarters of the Archbishop. Lanfranc also built St Paul’s Cathedral and the Tower of London. Like those, this building is of Caen stone from Normandy. Given that William’s intention was to dominate London and cower its citizens through the construction of immense buildings, the locals of Cheapside would conceivably have disliked this new St Mary-le-Bow, seeing it as an object of oppression.

 At one time there were no fewer than thirteen ‘St Mary’ churches within the City of London, so each church had a second name – or nickname – to distinguish between them. The name of le-Bow may derive from the round arches, unusual at the time, in the Norman crypt. The crypt, which has survived the ravages of time, extends almost the length of the whole church, although a portion of it is now bricked up. Roman bricks have been found in the masonry.

 In 1091 the roof of Lanfranc’s church blew off in London’s earliest reported tornado,  causing several deaths. The tower was totally rebuilt in 1521, but then in 1666 the ravages of the Great Fire meant the entire edifice had to be demolished. Having been appointed as the King's Surveyor of Works in 1669, Sir Christopher Wren was commissioned to rebuild the fifty-one city churches consumed by the blaze. The Rebuilding of London Act of 1670 provided the necessary funds, mainly from raising the tax on coal imported into the city. Other than St Paul's Cathedral, St Mary-le-Bow was considered the most important church in the city, and so headed up the list of those to be reconstructed.

 The church that stands today (the exterior at least) was built in 1679-80 by Sir Christopher Wren. It is made of Portland stone with a wooden interior. It turned out to be the most expensive of his City churches, costing a total of £15,400 to build, half of it spent on the impressive steeple (only that of St Bride’s is taller) which stands 66 feet high. Wren’s design was based on pictures he had seen of the Basilica of Maxentius in Rome. Much admired for its beauty and harmony, Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary: “I up to see Sir W. Pen … and there with him to see St Mary-le-Bow Church; which is very fine”. Diarist and courtier John Evelyn praised Wren’s work as “a new manner introduced into England”. The church’s large square tower is topped by a square bell-tower with a balustrade and pinnacles. Above that is a circle of columns, topped by a top stage 12 colonnettes and then an obelisk with a weather-vane.

The vane is in the shape of a nearly 9-foot long copper dragon (symbol of the City). An extract from Wren’s account book mentions the sculptor who produced the original wooden model: “To Edward Pierce, mason, for carving of a wooden dragon for a modell for ye Vane of copper upon ye top of ye Steeple, and for cutting a relive in board to be proffered up to discern the right bigness, the summe of £4”. We also know that a further £38 was paid for the dragon to be coppered. The finished article was hoisted into place in 1679.

Sadly, the Blitz bombing of 1941 reduced St Mary-le-Bow to a shell, although the 17^th century tower miraculously survived. During the war, the BBC World Service broadcast a recording of the Bow Bells (made in 1926) as a symbol of hope to the occupied people of Europe. 

St Mary-le-Bow was rebuilt and consecrated in 1964. All the stained glass dates from the 1960s. It has no churchyard, this having been replaced in recent times by a large paved courtyard. The rood cross is from Oberammergau in German, gifted after the war as a symbol of reconciliation.

Almost as famous as the church itself are its ‘Bow Bells’, immortalised in the nursery rhyme ‘Oranges and Lemons’:

                                         “When will you pay me? say the bells of Old Bailey.                                                                                           When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch.                                                                                            When will that be? say the bells of Stepney.                                                                                                  I do not know says the Great Bell of Bow.”

The original Bow Bell was a night-time curfew bell. From at least 1363 the Common Council ordered it to be rung nightly at 9pm to signal the end of the working day for the City’s apprentices. This practice continued until 1876. In earlier centuries, the sound of the bells’ peal would have been heard as far out as Hackney marshes and even Waltham Forest! These days its reach is much less extensive. Following devastating war damage, the bell was recast in 1954.

Since 1950, St Mary’s has held Grade I-listed status. Despite the wartime damage to the interior, the church’s external appearance is much as it was in the 17^th century and the 11^th century crypt remains. It is the parish church for the City’s business district and so offers services on weekdays rather than the traditional Sundays.

 

 

 

References: 

London’s Churches by Christopher Hibbert (1988)

An Encyclopedia of London by William Kent (3^rd ed. 1970)

Website: https://www.stmarylebow.org.uk/history/

 

 

The Limehouse Seamen’s Mission

First glimpsed on a walk around Limehouse some years ago, I had the opportunity during this year’s Open House event to venture inside this iconic building at 747 Commercial Road. With its tall windows, long upright mullions, and stone turrets, the structure looks for all the world like a cathedral. It is only when you look at the inscription that you realise what its function was, and how significant a role it played in London’s maritime history.

 

The building in 1802 of London’s first purpose-built docks, the West India Docks, led to surrounding districts such as Limehouse rapidly becoming populated with maritime workers. A new road was constructed – Commercial Road – to connect the city of London with its burgeoning docklands.

Many of those working on the ships or in the docks were what were known as ‘lascars’, a term which was coined to describe any non-white sailor and included men from Africa and the Middle-East as well as Asia. These were hired in large numbers and were the majority on many ships. Captains often preferred ‘coloured seamen’ because they could pay them less, were more comfortable in hotter climates and, if they were Muslim, did not drink alcohol.

Limehouse quickly grew into a diverse neighbourhood. The book ‘Living London’, published in 1902, provides a vivid snapshot of how the area must have looked: “It is in the crowded thoroughfares leading to the docks, in the lodging houses kept by East Indians, in the shops frequented by Arabs, Indians, and Chinese, and in the spirit houses and opium smoking rooms that one meets the most singular and most picturesque types of Eastern humanity, and the most striking scenes of Oriental life.”

The locals, however, were not so enamoured of these ‘foreign elements’ in their midst. By 1861 there had begun to be complaints about “an increase of low lodging houses for sailors… and the removal of the more respectable families to other localities.”

But not everybody was hostile - many social reformers and religious organisations saw Limehouse as a source of concern. It was observed how lascars that awaited their return passages in London, were ill-treated, impoverished and neglected. Often men jumped ship, choosing to starve on the streets rather than be subjected to the hellish conditions on board ship. Others were abandoned by their employers when they landed at port, either because they were not needed or because of opposition from white seamen.

The result was the building of a large number of seamens’ hostels, often run by
missionary societies who mostly wanted to provide a more wholesome alternative to other ‘low’ lodgings in the area. The largest and most famous organisation that responded to these issues was the Stranger’s Home for Asiatics, Africans and South Sea Islanders’ which opened in 1857 on West India Dock Road. There was also the Sailor’s Palace at 680 Commercial Road, a hostel run by the British and Foreign Sailors’ Society, built in 1901 and financed by the philanthropist Passmore Edwards. Other institutions sprang up to meet a clear demand.

The numbers of foreign sailors continued to grow during the 19^th century and a large influx of Chinese workers, arriving from the 1880s onwards, gave rise to yet more suspicion of ‘foreigners’. By the 1920s, Limehouse was universally known as the capital’s Chinatown and became infamous for its opium dens. What’s more, the locals’ negative attitudes were further bolstered by books such as Sax Rohmer’s Fu Manchu series (Dr Fu Manchu was a diabolic character bent on world domination and destroying white civilization) which played up the issue of crime in the Chinese community. Fear of the ‘Yellow Peril’ was a real feature of the age. Thomas Cook even ran tours for ‘daring people’ wanting to gawp at strange, exotic foreigners!

To give an idea of the size of the problem, by the end of WW1 16,000 seamen from all over the world were being let loose in the city every night looking for lodgings. Only three quarters of them would have any luck which meant “they were prey to all temptations“, as the more scurrilous newspapers put it!

In the end, an appeal was started throughout the Empire, largely organised by women, (in particular  the Ladies’ Guild of the British Sailors’ Society, headed by Beatrice, Lady Dimsdale) to raise the necessary money to build this hostel, which would also stand as a memorial to the 12,000 merchant sailors who were killed in service during the First World War. 

When it opened in 1924 the hostel, known as the Empire Memorial Sailors’ Hostel, provided 205 clean and airy single ‘cabins’ and these were much in demand, with sailors having to book in advance to guarantee a place. By 1929 the hostel had provided beds for over a million sailors. As well as a cabin of your own you would also have access to a large lounge, dining-hall, billiard room and a chapel. In the 1930s a room would cost 1/6 a night or 8 shillings a week. Such was the success of the Memorial Hostel that a second wing was built in 1932 round the corner on Salmon Lane with 100 cabins and a large function room.

 With the decline of the London dockyards in the 60s and 70s, demand for sailor accommodation slowed and eventually the Limehouse Seamen’s Mission became a hostel for the homeless (Prince’s Lodge) which closed in 1985. In 1994 the building was sold off to a developer who converted it into 50 private flats with a communal courtyard and a shared roof terrace. It has been re-named ‘The Mission’ and is Grade II-listed. 

Despite taking on a whole new guise, the building’s earlier character is reflected in details such as maritime-themed carving and attractive detailing on the stairways etc.

 

 

 References

Webpage: https://www.ourmigrationstory.org.uk/oms/chinese-limehouse-and-mr-ma-and-son

Webpage: https://tammytourguide.wordpress.com/2023/04/05/discovering-the-chinese-in-britain/

 

 

 

 

London’s ‘Early Houses’

As pubs extend their opening-hours in preparation for this summer’s many major sporting events, it seemed like a good time to write about a phenomenon I knew nothing about until a recent visit to Smithfield Market. London’s ‘early houses’, as they were known, hark back to a time when early-morning drinking was the norm.

Historically, pubs have always played an important part in the lives of working men and so-called ‘early houses’ were part of this tradition, often located close to docks or other places where people worked in shifts, such as traditional wholesale markets. As beer historian Martyn Cornell explains: “Market business was often conducted in the pub. You’d go have a look at someone’s cattle or sheep, and then go into the pub and strike the deal with a drink. It was almost a commercial necessity to keep these places open, so market business could be carried out.”

Historic Smithfield Market, where trading has gone on for over 800 years (though the buildings are

mainly Victorian), is in the process of being demolished. All businesses trading there will have been relocated to Dagenham by 2028 with many of the structures repurposed to create a new home for the Museum of London. In its heyday, the area around the market contained at least half a dozen early houses, but these have gradually disappeared. The Cock Tavern shut in 2013 and The Newmarket went in 2006, leaving just The Hope in Cowcross St and the Fox and Anchor in Charterhouse St.

The third remaining London early house is the bustling Market Porter*, near Borough Market. It opens

at 6am and is these days frequented by a much wider cross-section of workers than its name would suggest, including police, nurses and media people coming off the night-shift. But opening does not extend round the clock. The last call for the morning drinkers at the Market Porter rings at 8.30am, and they are swiftly kicked out half  an hour later with service resuming again at lunchtime.

Early houses actually came about due to a quirk in Britain’s alcohol licensing laws. Historically, all pubs would serve from first light, before this was stopped in the first world war because it was seen to hamper the war effort . However, an exception was made for market pubs as it was felt they were essential in keeping vital trade flowing.

*Porter, a dark, malty-flavoured beer first brewed in the 18^th century was so called because it was drunk by porters, the men who would fetch and carry around the streets of London. They would sit down outside a pub, put their load down, and order a quart to keep them going!

 

References:

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/londons-pubs-open-mornings-history (Feb 2018)

https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2017/jun/21/pints-dawn-last-call-london-market-pubs

(June 2017)