eastlondonhistory.com

Nice one … thanks to Jim Canty for this little taxer. Come out of the Rotherhithe Tunnel and you emerge in Stepney. Stepney is where John Wardle was raised. The same John Wardle who, under the moniker Jah Wobble (named thanks to a drunken mispronunciation by Sid Vicious) played bass in the John Lydon’s post-Sex Pistols band Public Image Ltd. Lydon and Vicious, while in the Pistols were dressed by Vivienne Westwood, then the partner of their manager Malcolm McLaren. The pair famously ran the Kings Road boutique Sex/Seditionaries, where the proto-Pistols hung out in the mid-seventies.

Nod goes out to Billy Moonshine for this one. The Monument of course marks the conflagration that we know today as the Great Fire of London, which was a bit of a curate’s egg of a disaster. Very bad news if you happened to be one of the hundreds of people whose homes and businesses were destroyed by the 1666 blaze, but many argue that it DID cleanse the capital of the pestilential streets that had been a hotbed for disease. To be fair, historian Roy Porter counter argues that this is nonsense, as the fire left the worst slums unscathed. Whatever, it gave Christopher Wren a chance to remodel the City along European boulevardesque lines. Wren’s model was only partly taken up, but he did leave us with St Paul’s and the Monument.

Why did the City authorities fail to put the fire out for so many days? Complacency, and the lack of decent fire fighting. The inability to get water to the flames (in a city that sits on a river) infuriated many observers, among them Wren and Pepys. Water was transported through a rickety and inefficient system of wooden pipes, and was not only scarce at times, but insanitary. London’s sewage poured into the same water that people were drinking. Nobody realised for years that the constant outbreaks of plague and cholera were connected to dirty water, blaming it instead on a ‘miasma’ (a vague answer as a result of vague thinking one might argue).

The man who eventually pinned cholera to dirty water was John Snow, a physician in Soho who observed the clustering of cases among people who used the Broad Street water pump. Visitors to Soho can see the site of the pump in what is now called Broadwick Street, before nipping across the road to enjoy a pint in the John Snow pub (many’s the drunken evening I’ve spent in there. Happy days). I digress. 28 Broad Street was the birthplace of William Blake - poet, painter, seer of visions and all-round genius. Incidentally, the Beatles and Public Image also come into this story if you think about it … but I’m not telling you that one yet. A shout of respect to anyone who can get back to me with the connection!

Are there any lists of stall holders in the 1940s?

I used to be in touch with Jo Barnett deceased [son of Harry] who was ”

“Barnett of Frying Pan Alley” with his cousin Morris (mermaid topped blue vans) since 1975 part of Associated Fisheries; then with H.Foreman & Sons, salmon curers.”

I have just received this from another Barnett in a different branch:

“I vaguely recall that in Petticoat Lane (where my Great-uncles Harry and Louis Barnett had the smoked-salmon business- a very small shop where they smoked salmon in the back-yard -  no ‘elf & Safety then! )  and  a few yards further on there was another Barnett deli  where people would buy their  meat & salt-beef sandwiches.   This was also a well-known and a favourite Jewish food as were smoked-salmon sandwiches on rye sold by H & L  and even today both are a mainstay of Jewish delis.  In America salt beef  is called Pastrami.  Salt beef has to be hot, served on rye bread and accompanied by a pickled gherkin.

The only thing that comes to mind now is that the ‘other ‘ Barnett was a half-brother or even a cousin, and   didn’t get on with H and  L.    As it was  and still is, customary for a husband to go out on Sunday morning and buy one or the other for lunch for the family, so the wife has a rest (those who could afford it, that is)  they were competing for customers.    Or  maybe some animosity  was due to their relationship with H & L.

A very distant memory thinks that there was a Louis there or maybe a Michael - or maybe my mind is playing tricks. but as I never went there I cannot tell you more.   Have you ever contacted the local history museum and/or the library of the borough of Tower Hamlets as I remember that they have records of the Lane  and may be of use especially as the smoked-salmon business became well known enough to eventually supply the Royal Family and were allowed to put  the royal coat of arms up outside”purveyors  to Their Majesties Queen Elizabeth 11 and King George V1″ I still have newspaper cuttings referring to H & L ”

Anybody who can help, contact annchiswell@yahoo.co.uk

Edward VI crowned King of England this day in 1547. The son and heir of Henry VIII, he reigned for six years (under two regencies) before dying, probably of tuberculosis, at the age of just 15 in 1553. Due to his father inventing the Church of England, the young Edward became England’s first Protestant monarch. After his death, and the shortlived reign of Lady Jane Grey, Edward’s half-sister ‘Bloody Mary’ would reinstitute Catholicism with a vengeance.

Also on 20th February, Jimmy Greaves was born in 1940 in East Ham. The England team’s third highest goalscorer, sometime Sun columnist and one-time TV football commentator (’it’s a funny old game Saint’), Greaves was one of the most superlatively strikers the English game has seen.

In 1819, William Smith who was born in Northumberland but captained cargo vessels out of Wapping, was sailing round Cape Horn as he skippered the vessel ‘Williams’ from Buenos Aires to Valparaiso.  Spotted an archipelago which he dubbed the South Shetland Islands. In 1820, the Royal Navy sent Smith and Williams back to survey the islands, discovering the Antarctic Peninsula as they did.

In 1985, the first episode of TV soap ‘EastEnders’ is broadcast, documenting the everyday life of rape, murder, arson and general unpleasantness that typifies life in the imaginary East End borough of Walford (an amalgam of south London’s Walworth and east London’s Romford).

Two London actors born on this day. In 1717, the great actor-manager David Garrick (who gives his name to both a West End street and theatre). His great grandfather, David Garric was a French Huguenot family, who fled Europe after the Edict of Nantes in 1685, first to Spitalfields in the East End. Somewhat in contrast, Ray Winstone was born in 1957 in Homerton - Scum, Sexy Beast, Quadrophenia, I’d like to have seen Garrick take a pop at those.

This blog started out as an online presence for the pieces I’ve been writing for East End Life for the last 13 years. Those features go out now (as back then) to the ‘lucky’ folk of the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, who get a free copy posted through their door each week (actually it’s not free as they pay for it through their Council Tax but let’s not get too semantic about this). The wonderful thing is, though, that the website has mutated far beyond the few miles bounded by the City of London, the borough of Hackney, the River Lea and the River Thames. I’m increasingly getting emails from people all over the planet, who have family connections with the East End and want to retrace their roots.

Now I’m not a genealogist, and I haven’t the time to help people with their family trees (though I wish you disparate Australians, New Zealanders, South Africans, Americans and Canadians, for that’s largely who gets in touch, the best of luck). I CAN however, post your requests for info in a dedicated section on the site, within which this is the first entry. The idea is that you can ask … and the helpful readers within the blogosphere will respond. Well it’s a theory. From time to time I’ll also post any useful information on where to look, who to contact, and other resources as they come my way.

So come on down. If you are trying to retrace your East End roots, or you just have a letter or story to share with us, let me know. It doesn’t have to be a response to another post, you can just drop me an email at eastlondonhistory@googlemail.com. Look forward to hearing from you.

We seem to be awash in anniversaries at the moment. But Charles Darwin and Robbie Burns can step aside for a true hero of the East End this month. George Lansbury was born on 21 February 1859. He lived to see World War II, having fought alongside striking dockers, founded a national newspaper, gone to prison for his beliefs, and led the Labour Party.

A programme of events at Bow and Westminster will mark a century and a half since the birth of the man AJP Taylor called ‘the most lovable figure in modern politics’. Local happenings include a memorial service at St Mary’s Bow, where Lansbury worshipped for 40 years. There will be a meeting at Bromley Public Hall, addressed by Tony Benn. The connections both with family and East End politics go back a long way - Benn’s grandfather John was an LCC councillor and active in the 1889 London Docks Strike alongside Lansbury. Other speakers include Shirley Williams and Roy Hattersley - it’s obvious that Lansbury means a lot to the Labour movement to this day. But the tenor of the celebrations marks a change of emphasis, putting Lansbury’s remarkable political contribution firmly in the context of his Christian faith.

The enduring affection for Lansbury largely comes from his stubborn determination to stand up for what he thought was right: he was a constant thorn in the side of party colleagues and opponents alike. In 1886 Lansbury, at that time a Liberal, was General Secretary of the Bow & Bromley Liberal Association, but would resign over the leadership’s refusal to support legislation for a shorter working week. In 1892 Lansbury was elected to the Board of Guardians that ran Poplar Workhouse.

Bucking the principle that the workhouse should be made miserable, so miserable that people would avoid it at all costs (and so save the borough money), Lansbury and his colleagues made the workhouse a useful experience. They sent unemployed men out to the Laindon Farm Colony, near Basildon, taught them the basics of market gardening and got many back to work.

It took Lansbury three goes to win a Parliamentary seat, but having landed Bow & Bromley for Labour in 1910, he resigned his seat two years later, fighting the resulting by-election on a platform of votes for women. It was a ploy to draw attention to the plight of Suffragette prisoners, but was never likely to find sufficient popular support (women not having the vote of course). The Daily Herald he helped found in 1911 opposed Britain entering the First World War: they weren’t unique in this, but it was a boldly contrary move as the country was being whipped into a jingoistic fervour.

And in 1921 came the campaign which would define Lansbury in the eyes of many East Enders - and which would create that reputation as ‘the most lovable figure in modern politics’. As Mayor of Poplar he defied government to raise the rate - again, it was to boost poor relief. Lansbury and his councillors refused to back down, going to prison for four months for their principles and inventing the word ‘Poplarism’ in the process. He would resign from Ramsay MacDonald’s National Government in 1931 (and go on to lead the Labour Party himself), and bitterly opposed Britain’s entry into World War II.

Lansbury’s politics were grounded in principle and in his Christian faith. Some would argue that such a principled refusal to compromise is the opposite of politics. But another East Ender, who succeeded him as Labour leader, neatly argued that Lansbury was not only a good man, but an effective operator. Clement Attlee called him ‘an evangelist rather than a Parliamentary tactician. Yet during those years in which he led the small Party in the House he showed great skill and powers of everyday leadership’.

The Revd Michael Peet, Rector of Bow church is leading the events that celebrate Lansbury’s life over the weekend of 21/22 February and argues “George Lansbury’s achievements in local and national politics are enormously impressive, but even more so is the sheer goodness of the man. After his death a local man said that, ‘One just could not help loving George Lansbury because there was nothing but love in his heart.’” While maintaining his political career and running the Daily Herald, Lansbury was a tireless figure in his local church, serving on its councils, running men’s and youth groups, Bible classes, the Temperance Society, supporting the church football team.

Events include a history walk along Bow Road on Saturday 21 February at 2pm, starting at Bow tube station. The memorial service is at St Mary’s Bow Church on Bow Road, Sunday 22 February at 4pm. For further information contact Nigel Whiskin on 01793 747362, 07775 630153 or whiskino6@btinternet.com.

Dear John
Not so much a tale about the East End but a request for some detective work for you to follow up. Perhaps an article in it? As a Wapping resident of the past 21 years I  regularly admired the Henry Moore bronze of mother and child that used to stand in front of the flats on Jamaica Road. During some renovation work some years ago it disappeared and has never been put back.  I sem to remember that the sculpture had a colloquial local name - fondly referrerd to as something like ‘Old Flo’

At one time I attempted to follow this up via the Local History Library and learned that in the 1990s it had been sent on loan, I think to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park or Henry Moore Foundation up North.

As I assume it was originally commissioned or gifted to Tower Hamlets ( by whom and to commemorate what?), I am wondering why it is still on loan and not in its rightful place somewhere in the borough? I seem to remember some comment about its value/ risk of damage in which case I feel at least Tower Hamlets is owed a  less valuable cast of the original. Surely we did not lend it permanently to Yorkshire? Perhaps it was only temporaily placed in the East End and why Jamaica Road?

I often think of it when driving down Jamaica Road and it seems to have been a forgotten piece of  recent  local history. Could you please research/ investigate and let me  (and others  via an article with photo?) know why it is no longer a part of the Tower Hamlets public art scene?

Thanks.

Deryn Hall

I’d forgotten this one … can anyone shed any light? JR

Last week we saw how the unlikely trio of master mariner John Harriott, magistrate Patrick Colquhoun and philosopher Jeremy Bentham were responsible for the formation of the Marine Police Force on the River Thames. Having swiftly proved to Parliament that his new river force was saving the docks a huge sum in pilfered goods, Colquhoun found himself in charge of a publicly funded police force.

The Marine Police took a lease on a riverside site at Wapping and set about appointing permanent officers, with a Superintendent of Ships Constables in charge of five Surveyors, men who would patrol the river by both day and night, rowed in open galleys by Thames Watermen. A further four Surveyors would visit ships being loaded and unloaded, while Ship Constables would watch over the dockers. There was also a Surveyor of Quays with two assistants and 30 Police Quay Guards.

It was an unwieldy setup, and it was hard and dangerous work, but by the 1830s, the Marine Police had grown to having three stations (Waterloo and Blackwall had been added) and 15 boats. In 1829, Robert Peel formed the Metropolitan Police and in 1839 the new force amalgamated with the river force, which was now renamed Thames Division.

A disaster in 1878 was to force change from the river police’s use of rowing boats … though it was a long time coming. On 3 September that year, iron ship the Bywell Castle ploughed into the pleasure steamer Princess Alice at Galleons Reach. The paddle boat, returning with 800 holidaymakers from a day trip to the Kent coast, was snapped in two and sank with the loss of more than 600 lives. It was the greatest ever loss of civilian lives in UK waters. The inquest found that Thames Division were woefully underpowered with their rowing galleys, and the first two steam launches came into service in the mid 1880s. By 1898 there were eight more, but it was 1905 before the 28 row boats were finally phased out. In 1910, motor launches joined the fleet.

The late 20th century had its own river tragedy, and again it forced a change in how the Thames was policed. At ten minutes to two on the morning of 20 Auguest 1989, the dredger Bowbelle collided with the pleasure boat Marchioness close to Cannon Street Railway Bridge. The river police were swiftly on the scene, getting to the collision inside six minutes. Four police boats, assisted by the passenger boat Hurlingham plucked 87 people from the waters of the Thames, but 51 people died, and the inquest that followed demanded change.

The Maritime and Coastguard Agency ( MCA ), the Port of London Authority ( PLA ) and the Royal National Lifeboat Institution ( RNLI ) worked on setting up a dedicated Search and Rescue service for the tidal River Thames, taking over at least part of the role that the River Police had fulfilled for more than two centuries. And on 2 January 2002, the RNLI opened four new lifeboat stations at Gravesend, Tower Pier, Chiswick Pier and Teddington. And the river police (now called the Marine Support Unit or MSU) work in tandem on rescues with the RNLI, the Coastguards and a London Fire Brigade boat.

Today, the job of protecting the London Docks from pilfering is no more - because of course the London Docks are no more, having long since moved downriver to Tilbury. But to this day the river police operate out of the same Wapping High Street address that has been their home for more than two centuries, and now has 22 boats in its fleet. The beat of the MSU covers 14 miles of river, between Hampton Court and Dartford Creek. Above Hampton Court, the Surrey Police patrol the river along with the Environment Agency. Below Dartford, the Essex and Kent Police take over, with an Essex marine unit based at Burnham-on-Crouch police station.

Two of the founders of the river police have been remembered in the names of police launches. The John Harriott was in service from 1947 to 1963, while a Targa duty boat currently bears the name. Police launch Patrick Colquhoun patrolled the Thames from 1963 to 2003. Jeremy Bentham, strangely, has never been thus commemorated. Perhaps his ‘auto icon’ sat on display at University College London is memorial enough.

The Marine Policing Unit at Wapping is a sophisticated and unique branch of the Metropolitan Police. The men and women in boats have to liaise with the Port of London Authority, Special Branch, Customs and Excise, the Coastguard service, London Fire Brigade and Immigration. And their motor launches are a familiar sight, speeding from the Wapping River Station that has been its home for more than 200 years.

It’s all a far cry from the early days of the unit, when officers ventured into the docks in rowing boats, and often had standup fights with dockers … who resented the new coppers curtailing their ‘bonuses’. For the story behind the river police is of theft from the docks on a grand scale, and a curious genesis involving Spitalfields philosopher Jeremy Bentham.

Bentham was a fascinating and contradictory figure. A lover of freedom, he also famously he devised the panopticon - a prison where the inmates could be observed at all times (while never being aware that they were being watched. His philosophy of utilitarianism is brilliant but controversial. To put things simply, the theory says that the worth of an act is judged by its contribution to the sum total of human happiness: many have argued that, logically, utilitarianism could lead to great individual unhappiness for the individual. Yet he was startlingly liberal for his day - a proponent of animal rights, equal rights for women, gay rights and an end to both slavery and the death penalty.

But we’re not here to argue philosophical theory, we’re talking about ships and crime. Bentham also saw himself as an intensely practical philosopher - hence the panopticon. Hence too his interest in the problem of thievery at the docks, where merchants in the Pool of London were losing half a million pounds in filched cargo each year. The great thinker was persuaded to work on a solution by Magistrate Patrick Colquhoun, alongside Essex Justice of the Peace and Master Mariner John Harriot.

Within weeks, Colquhoun had a plan to put to the merchants. Armed with £4200 put up by the West India Merchants and the West India Planters Committees, the magistrate recruited 50 men to police the 33,000 dock and river workers - Colquhoun claimed 11,000 were on the make, a figure surely plucked from the air.

So was born England’s first professional police force, and they were hated. Just like the earlier Bow Street Runners (founded in 1749) and the later Metropolitan Police, they would be considered an infringement of Londoners’ liberties; the idea of a police force seems to have been viewed by many rather as identity cards are now. The Marine Police Force was pilloried as an idea suitable for France or Germany, but not for the free men and women of England.

Colquhoun’s ‘11,000′ may not have been far off mind. Soon after the force began its work on 2 July 1798 a mob of 2000 attempted to burn down the Wapping Police Station with the officers inside. The fight that ensued saw the first English policeman killed in the line of duty, with the death of the unfortunate Gabriel Franks. One of the forces’s current launches is named ‘Gabriel Franks’ in his memory.

The crux of Colquhooun’s plan was in giving his men a salary, unlike the Bow Street Runners, who relied on a (rather erratic stipend). By putting the river men on a regular wage he could make them full time, demand higher standards of professionalism and, arguably, reduce the likelihood of corruption. The brilliance in involving Bentham in this plan was that the founders used utilitarianism to sell the marine force to local businesses. They used a cost-benefit model, effectively saying ‘for every pound you cough up to fund our police force’ you’ll make more than a pound back’.

And it worked. A year in, Colquhoun reported back that his men had ‘established their worth by saving £122,000 worth of cargo and by the rescuing of several lives’. Possibly some made-up figures again there from Mr Colquhoun, but the authorities figured that such furious resistance must mean the police were hitting a nerve, and Government acted to transform the freelance agency into a public police force. Colquhoun had not only invented the idea of the publicly funded police force, he had also introduced the idea of crime prevention (rather than simply capture and punishment) for the first time. Again, this rankled with many, who argued that a free Englishman should be free to commit crimes and then be caught, rather than being snooped on by officers. But the authorities loved it of course, and the model was copied around the world.

Next week: Fights, rescues and tragedies … how the river police developed.