Comments on: At Great Eastern Buildings

By: Peter Dawson

Peter Dawson — Thu, 02 Oct 2025 03:17:28 +0000

Bricked Lane

Upon the Great Eastern Buildings’ roofs I played
A scruffy street urchin, letting off steam
Brushing through washing lines, once OMO clean
An environmental product, brought about nan’s dismay

Wanton vandalism, a local Scallywag spewed
Black Jacks or Fruit Salads, voraciously chewed
Whatever happened to that little boy?
Its one and only purpose…to destroy!

Come the weekend, not a care in the world
By dusk, now as black as the ace of spades
Down onto Sheba Street, a torrent once hurled
Milk bottles and stones would often cascade!

Iron horses trundled past…temptingly slow
I’m Jesse James, maybe tomorrow, the Lone Ranger
Sitting ducks for naughty boys in full flow
Stone-throwing’s fun; oblivious to danger

In the shadow of a Truman chimney stack
Stood a corner shop at number ninety-seven
Opposite, Two Brewers stared drunkenly back
To a child, this sweetshop seemed like sheer heaven

Harry’s kindly smile, offset by Marion’s icy glare
To his everlasting credit, a blind eye concealed
Boys and girls stole, for them it was just a dare
Personal hardship in the past, Harry did reveal

Fetch twenty Player’s No.6, if not, Embassy will do
A sixpence or a shilling in my pocket for going
1/2 oz of Old Holborn, and a packet of green papers, too
Freezer crowd, um…shall I buy a Fab or a Rocket?

Across a cobbled Quaker Street, Leon’s shop is calling
But first, a bejewelled-encrusted obstacle to traverse
A bun-fight ensued; such behaviour was most appalling
Criminally irresponsible? It would only get worse!

Over on Spitalfields Market; two peas in a pod
Rummaging through sacks of fruit and veg
In Itchy Park’s haven, tramps and methers could stretch
A Christ Church refuge; a ray of light sent from God

Alan Dawson

By: Joe

Joe — Mon, 05 May 2025 08:48:17 +0000

Just as I recall. I was one if the small children hanging out by the bins at 6 years old. It felt very positive to me. I fell down the stairs and a big scary man came to my aid, he couldn’t have been more kind. There were tens of us children watching older lads on their scooters. We were fascinated by what has come to be known as diversity. My parents were on the 3rd floor, my grandmother on the 5th. I would go on the roof to see the pigeons that people kept. Bethnal Green was like Aladin’s cave.

By: Paul

Paul — Tue, 22 Apr 2025 06:20:39 +0000

Hi all. Wonderful article which really brought the characters in the buildings alive. My family didn’t live there but I’m researching a family who did – does anyone remember Fred Shankley (born 1895) a widower, and lived in the block from the 1930s until the late 1950s? Or his son, also called Fred (b 1920), who lived there until about 1950 when he moved to a prefab in Bromley by Bow? I’d love to hear from you if you know of them.
Paul

By: Tom Harrison

Tom Harrison — Mon, 13 Nov 2023 21:42:00 +0000

Hello Steve,

Thankyou for your excellent work.

Without your efforts, all this social history would have been lost.

My Fathers family lived in Gt Eastern buildings. Harrisons.

His name was Fred and he had a sister called Dorothy. His Father’s name was Tom and he was a carman.

Anyone remember them?

By: steven harris

steven harris — Fri, 29 Sep 2023 23:09:54 +0000

@Steve P. Hello Steve good to hear from you all the way down under. Such great memory you have – it certainly echoes my recollection of the middle blocks, brick lane market (as was) etched in our mind, stewed tea and those big old sinks! I had forgotten about the lard but you are right – dripping (as my nan called the lard) on toast was a fave of my grand dad.Wow, congrats to your old nan for touching 100 – that was some achievement.
Would love to get more of your memories – a few posts above this one I give my email address – if you have time and inclination it would be great to hear from you,.
Cheers , Steven

By: Steve P

Steve P — Tue, 15 Aug 2023 00:43:12 +0000

Just read your excellent post Steve on the Great Eastern Buildings. I was born in the same year as you but it was my grandparents who lived there. They were the unfortunates who had to share the communal bathrooms, I seem to recall the old Butler sinks, broken glass in the windows and the steam trains that would rush by the building billowing steam and soot.
An enduring memory was of my grandfather sitting naked in a battered tin bath in the middle of the sitting room with my nan topping it up with hot water from the range. It was not a pretty sight seeing this bald thin old man in his birthday suit. My nan would get everything she ever needed from Brick Lane markets, always brought back some bagels which were lavishly spread with butter and a ‘nice cuppa tea’, strong tea that virtually took the shine off the teaspoons.
Always white hardened fat in a saucepan on the stove ready to cook chips at the drop of a hat. Every visitor would be asked “like a few chips love?”. Bagels, butter and chips, not the healthiest of diets one might say but nan was just 6 months shy of 100 when she died in Walthamstow in 2009. Anyway thanks again for the memories. Steve P – Perth Australia

By: steven harris

steven harris — Thu, 06 Jul 2023 17:08:50 +0000

Hello Peter,
I would love the chance to talk over these things. So much could be added. If you have a moment to write to me at the email I gave in my previous post I would love to hear from you. Cheers, Steven

By: Peter Dawson

Peter Dawson — Wed, 26 Apr 2023 17:46:52 +0000

Hello Steven, nice to hear from you. Life’s strange, isn’t it? You left a reply on the 7th anniversary of my father’s death! There’s definitely more to this life than we know. You mentioned a man named Tony who lived in the Great Eastern Buildings, and that he knew a good-looking bloke. That bloke was probably my dad. Tony Casey bought a house with my father in Forest Gate: Casey had the top half, our family lived in the bottom. We were eventually evicted from our OWN home on 19 October 1970 (my dad’s 45th birthday!). I was only 9-years-old at the time, so it was a bit of a blur. One day I’m living in London, the next week I’m living in Essex. Many years later I found out that Casey (long since dead) was a thief and an informant for the CID/Flying Squad. His handler at New Scotland Yard was Donald Neesham. They, along with Drury, Virgo, Moody etc were trying to fit-up my father and have him put away. 7-years later they were (apart from Neesham) all convicted of corruption in 1977. What a saga, eh? So glad to see you got a good education…unlike me. You’ve written a social history of our little part of the East End; people will be reading your book 100-years from now! Seeing the photographs from the roof transports me straight back there; I simply loved playing up on the roof, getting up to mischief. Do you remember the rubbish chutes that were always overflowing? The rats (a rat ran across my nan’s face as she slept!) As you stated, I can actually remember a young girl swinging a rat round on a long piece of string! My mother told me how my father helped someone from a burning house in Wilkes Street. Do you have any information about this, as my dad was too modest to mention it. God bless Harry. Look after yourself, Alan.

By: steven harris

steven harris — Wed, 19 Apr 2023 14:01:11 +0000

Hello Peter (or is it Alan?),
I think I do recall you. I don’t think we were close friends but I do recall occasionally playing with a lad called Peter.Possibly that was you? The things you recount – on the roof, throwing objects onto the rail lines (dangerous) and especially hanging around with Snudge’ certainly suggests there was every chance we knew each other.
Apologies for any errors in the book; unfortunately a combination of 50 year old memories, plus information (rumours?) gleaned from others are never going to be 100% accurate but rather reflect a way of life more than anything else. Even so, its good to get accurate information – wish I could have spoken with you before I wrote as so many people recalled the Crockett girls. Tell your Nan not to sue!
Its great that you remember Harry with equal fondness – what a guy – the only shopkeeper who didn’t mind some minor pilfering!
I hope your life has gone well – it would be nice to hear from you (if the gentle author will allow: hrs177@aol.com)

By: Peter Dawson

Peter Dawson — Thu, 12 Jan 2023 19:28:19 +0000

Hello Steve, bought and read your book a few years ago. Interesting, and also well-written. I lived in Great Eastern Buildings as a baby/child in the early ‘60s with my mum and dad Dilys and Peter Dawson. Obviously I don’t remember that time, but I used to visit my nan regularly in the late ‘60s early ‘70s at weekends. My nan was known affectionately by a few names: Ellen, Nellie, Nell, or Eleanor. I must point out a couple of errors, though. My nan had two step-daughters, Jackie/Jacqueline and Jennifer who lived with her at the Buildings. They were Not her biological daughters. She took them in and cared for them after their father (William Crockett) died prematurely shortly after their wedding in Wales. Although disabled, my step-cousin Jackie worked hard for most of her life. I think Jackie used to drink in the Two Brewers public house (a Charrington’s pub if my memory serves me correctly, standing in the shadow of Truman’s). Uncle Billy (not my real uncle) also lived at my nan’s for many years as a lodger…never my nan’s lover! You’re lucky my nan’s dead, otherwise she probably would’ve sued, although Jackie and Jennifer are very much alive. I have also written a book (although not published) , with a chapter focusing on my time in the Buildings. I have very fond memories of the lovely newsagent/shopkeeper Harry Fishman. What an absolute diamond. My mother said she used to do a bit of work for him back in the day. Many local kids used to steal from Harry, but I think he used to turn a blind eye to it. God bless you Harry, I don’t think you realised how much we all thought of you, our very own Grocer Jack! Maybe he had a tough upbringing during the ‘30s, and knew the score. I can remember two Asian grocery stores in Brick Lane, one owned by Peter, the other by Abdul. Sorry to any Asian/Bengali families living in Sheba Street. You see I used to ‘play’ up on the Buildings’ roof with the other kids, where we’d throw stones at passing trains (hardly the Railway Children), and occasionally drop stones and milk bottles on to the cobbled Sheba Street. Vaguely remember an old lady named Edna, the O’Briens, the Blackhalls?, and a fellow scallywag called Snudgy/Snudgie. I also remember the over-flowing rubbish chutes, the rats, Club Row, Sclater Street with all the dogs, cats, birds, fish, and tortoises for sale, and the smell. It’s strange, but in my mind’s eye I can still see Harry, and I can hear his unique Cockney/Jewish voice. Alan Dawson.