Harry bakes the cakes for my tour to recipe of 1720. Tickets available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields this Saturday. Click here to book

Lew Tassell at the Mansion House

Lew Tassell, formerly of the City of London Police, took me on a walk tracing the path of his old beat last week and regaled me with stories of his adventures in the City in the last century.

“I joined the City of London Police in June 1969. After thirteen weeks training at Eynsham Police Training Centre, I commenced divisional duties at Bishopsgate in September for about a month with an experienced officer and then on my own, patrolling for a two year probationary period.

The COLP had three divisions then – Bishopsgate, Wood St & Snow Hill. Each was split into areas, subdivided into beats. There were always plenty of officers patrolling and, although you were supposed to patrol alone, you very often teamed up with a colleague, as long as you were not caught by the Duty Inspector who patrolled for about an hour on each shift. If you saw the Inspector, you had to approach him, stand to attention, salute and state your beats. If you were “off your ground” or not on the area designated you could be in trouble.

In the days when there were few automated crossings, an officer would be posted to operate the lights manually and ensure smooth running of traffic during the rush hour. You could open the traffic light box with a key on your whistle chain to sequence the lights. At 8.00am and again at 18.00pm, there would always be two officers directing traffic at the junction of Aldgate, Minories and Houndsditch which was the busiest point. The entrances to Liverpool St Station would be manned during the rush hour to assist commuters. There were also two school crossing duties to cover in the morning and evenings, Dukes Place and Bishopsgate North by Pindar St, for the students at the Central Foundation School for Girls.

Between 7.00am and 20.00pm, three officers policed Tower Bridge. The rule was an officer for the North Tower, one for the South Tower and a third for the bascules, where it opens up. There were police boxes on both sides of the bridge for “inclement weather” but a four hour shift was quite boring, especially if it was quiet – so often we would often congregate in one box, keeping an eye out for an Inspector on patrol.

I also enjoyed being allocated bicycle duty on nights and at the weekends. You collected a standard sit-up-and-beg black bicycle and cycled anywhere on division for the whole shift that started and finished an hour earlier than usual to cover the change-over period. You wore standard uniform including your helmet and perhaps bicycle clips. I was knocked off my bike once as I was approaching Tower Bridge when a coach cut in, turning left into East Smithfield. Nothing was hurt apart from my pride as my helmet bounced down the street in front of onlookers.”

“I often took the short cut from Houndsditch through the Port of London Authority’s bonded warehouse in Cutler St to the back entrance of Bishopsgate Police Station in New St. The PLA policemen on the gates waved me through the complex which was built for the East India Company as their warehouse in the City and appeared to have changed little in 1969. It was dark and imposing, and I always felt the atmosphere of history. In one dark corner was the only facility permitted for the storage of opium. You could smell it from outside – or I assumed that was what it was. When the complex became derelict in the seventies, the City Police used it for firearms training.”

“I have enjoyed visiting the Lamb Tavern in Leadenhall Market frequently over fifty years. It is my favourite pub in London and thankfully has hardly changed. My introduction came on Christmas Eve 1969. Unlike today, most people in the City worked on Christmas Eve but everyone finished at midday and went to the pub. They got carried away and there were a lot of drunk people trying to make their way home in the afternoon when licensing hours meant the pubs had to stop serving at 3.30pm. Two officers were allocated to each pub to assist the landlord in clearing the bars. In 1969, I was allocated the Lamb. The atmosphere was generally good natured and there was little aggravation but there were a lot of drunk people, especially those that were once-a-year drinkers.

One Christmas Eve, I encountered a City gent in striped trousers and a bowler hat, with an umbrella, staggering towards me in Bishopsgate. He could not stand straight and hardly talk, but I managed to find out he had to catch a train from Broad St Station to somewhere in West London, so I literally carried him to the station and put him on a train home.”

“When I joined the Force I was taken out under instruction by an experienced officer. Most had places where they could stop for a cup of tea and a chat, it was a good way to meet the community. They were known as ‘tea holes.’ One of the ones I was taken to was a coffin factory, situated on the first floor of Artillery Lane at the junction with Sandys Row. It surprised me to find such an establishment in the City. All the carpenters made the coffins by hand with one floor entirely for storage. I was told that – by law -they had to keep at least two hundred coffins in case they should be required in an emergency, if there was a disaster.”

“Gun St is in Spitalfields and not strictly the City of London, but I would often cut through there from Brushfield St. There were a number of Victorian workshops, all run by the Asians, manufacturing clothing in sweatshops. In Gun St, they made leather coats and jackets and I purchased garments for myself, excellent quality and well made. The production process was astonishing to see, with dozens of people in a small space producing leather goods, measuring, cutting, stitching and sewing.”

“A favourite beat of mine was around and beneath Fenchurch St Railway Station, especially through French Ordinary Court. It was an alley that led into the underground cavernous area beneath the railway station arches. Cool in summer and warm in winter, there was an overwhelming smell of spices as you entered the tunnel. Sadly, they have managed to erase the spices but the cobbles are still there as you emerge into Crutched Friars, very close to another favourite spot – the churchyard of St Ghastly Grim.”

“The City of London Police Headquarters was situated at 26 Old Jewry since the Force was formed in 1839, it housed the offices of the Commissioner and Assistant Commissioner. The building was rebuilt in 1929 but, unusually for that time, retained the original staircase from 1725. Later, Old Jewry became the first offices of the Fraud Squad and the C.I.D. HQ. It was here I was interviewed to become a Cadet in 1967 and join the Force in 1969.”

“The City of London Magistrates Court opened in 1990 at 1 Queen Victoria St after the Mansion House and Guildhall Justice Rooms were closed.”

“Painted bright blue with an amber lamp on top, police boxes they were the main source of communication with officers on the beat before the advent of police radios. The general public could also summon help from a telephone in the upper part of the box. If an officer needed to be contacted, the amber light would flash on the boxes situated on his beat. If the light on the top was constantly illuminated, it signalled that royalty was in the City. By 1969, there were only a few occasions when you were not issued with a radio but, even so, the boxes were totally reliable unlike some of the radios.”

“I love rock music and going to gigs and, as a teenager, my favourite band were The Nice. They split in 1970 and keyboard player Keith Emerson formed Emerson Lake & Palmer with Greg Lake and Carl Palmer. In the spring of 1972, I noticed heavy boxes  being unloaded from a large van in the lay-by outside the Fire Station in Bishopsgate with the word NICE painted on the sides. It could only be Keith Emerson’s equipment. The boxes were being taken into a lunchtime drinking club that was shut in the evenings called The Poor Millionaire, whose premises are now Dirty Martini. I had a chat to the roadies who invited me down and I spent the evening watching Emerson Lake & Palmer rehearsing their next album Trilogy. The band were very friendly and welcoming, and I got to play Keith’s Hammond organ while he was leaping around wearing my police helmet.”

“Officers in the City of London Police are given a silver statue of a policeman upon retirement if they complete thirty years’ service. The origin of this goes back to the thirties when Mrs Firminger Paton a director of Baston-Firminger Ltd, Commodity Brokers in Cullum St, used to drive to her offices in her Daimler from her home in Wimbledon every day. Police officers assisted her passage through the City and she was so impressed she invited them to her house and garden each year for beer and a buffet in a marquee. In return, the grateful officers made a collection and had a silver policeman made that could be screwed onto the bonnet of her Daimler. When Mrs Firminger Paton died in the seventies, the mascot was returned to the City Police and kept permanently in the Commissioner’s office at her request. So it was then decided that retiring officers should each receive a Silver Policeman of their own.”

Lew Tassell’s helmet

Lew Tassell’s oak truncheon which had been used by generations of policemen before him, dating back to the nineteenth century

Lew Tassell’s badge, keys and whistle

You may also like to take a look at

On Top Of Britannic House With Lew Tassell

A Walk Around The Docks With Lew Tassell

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tours

In advance of Peta Bridle’s forthcoming exhibition London Day by Day at Southwark Cathedral from September 3rd to 14th October, here are a selection of drawings from her City of London sketchbook.

‘Inspired by ‘Offbeat in the City of London’ by Geoffrey Fletcher, I visited some of the places he drew in the sixties and made my own sketches,’ Peta explained to me, ‘It was interesting to stand where he stood fifty years ago and often see many buildings unchanged, while others places were unrecognisable.’

Mermaid Court

‘I sat on the pavement to make this sketch which gives it a low viewpoint. I like the composition of the three bollards, leaning drunkenly against the paving stones. The shadows were constantly shifting due to the strong sunlight. A man from a cafe under the archway kindly bought me a cup of tea.’

Old Shop in Eastcheap

‘I sat on the steps of St Margaret Pattens to draw this. The doors are decorated with seashell motifs and framed by columns on either side. Seagulls kept squawking in the background which was common to all my drawings in the City, competing with the racket of construction works.’

Hodge & Dr Johnson’s House, Gough Sq

‘I sat behind the statue of the cat with oysters at his paws, looking towards Dr Johnson’s House. Hodge, ‘A very fine cat indeed,’ belonged to Samuel Johnson who sometimes bought his pet oysters to eat as a treat.’

Playhouse Yard, Blackfriars

‘I chose a Sunday morning to visit Playhouse Yard. The Blackfriars Theatre once stood here but all that remains of the Elizabethan playhouse is a piece of brick wall.’

Postmans Park

‘In the churchyard of St. Botolph’s, there are tablets describing act of bravery. The memorial was built by Victorian painter and philanthropist, GF Watts. On the front of the structure it reads ‘In commemoration of Heroic Self Sacrifice.”

Shakespeare Memorial, Garden of St Mary Aldermanbury

‘In the distance a marching band was making its way to the Guildhall and there were skateboarders practising in the garden. The bust of Shakespeare commemorates Henry Condell and John Heminges who published the First Folio. They lived in the parish and are buried in the churchyard. The church was damaged in the Blitz and rebuilt in Fulton, Missouri in 1966.’

Simpsons Chop House, Ball Court

‘Behind me the occasional bus sailed up Cornhill and there was the gentle background hush of air conditioning units. Simpsons Tavern was founded in 1757 by Thomas Simpson. A jumble of books sit in the bow window and the alley to the side leads on to Castle Court.’

St Johns Garden, Clerkenwell 

‘This is a lovely garden with a fountain and silvery olive tree set in the centre, referencing the Holy Land, since the Knights of St John are buried here.’

Doorway at St Magnus the Martyr

‘I have attended services with my children at St Magnus for the blessing of the river, held jointly with Southwark Cathedral. I made a study of one of its doorways, crowned with a cherub’s head. Outside is a piece of Roman piling from the Roman river wall. The church is on the original alignment of London Bridge where people crossing would enter the City.’

St Peter Upon Cornhill

It was very quiet in St Peter’s Alley next to the churchyard while I was drawing this. A couple said ‘hello’ as they walked past and a man hurried by clutching his sandwich bag.’

St Dunstan in the East

‘St Dunstan’s attracts many visitors to sit and enjoy the garden. I found a shady spot to draw as it was a very hot day. Palm trees flourish here and the walls are draped with greenery. The church was destroyed in the blitz and the yard turned into a public garden.’

Double page of St Dunstan in the East

Drawings copyright © Peta Bridle

You may also like to take a look at

Peta Bridle’s Gravesend Sketchbook

Peta Bridle’s New Etchings

Peta Bridle’s Latest Drypoint Etchings

Peta Bridle River Etchings

Join me this Saturday for tea and cakes freshly baked to a recipe of 1720 served in a three hundred year old house in Fournier St overlooking Christ Church. Click here to book for THE GENTLE AUTHOR’S TOUR OF SPITALFIELDS

Chris Miles contacted me from Vancouver Island, where he describes himself as a Londoner in exile. ‘In the early seventies, I lived as a recently-graduated student in the East End, firstly on Grove Rd and then on Lauriston Rd above a supermarket,’ he explained and sent me his splendid photographs. Most were taken around Bethnal Green, Roman Rd and Mile End, and Chris & I welcome identification of precise locations from eagle-eyed readers.

George Davis is Innocent, Mile End Rd

Linda ‘n Laura

Getting a loaf, Stepney Green

S Kornbloom, Newsagent & Confectioner, Jubilee St

Corner Shop Groceries & Provisions, Stepney Way

Ronchetti’s Cafe, Piano’s & Kitchen Chairs Wanted

Snacks & Grills

The Bell Dining Rooms, Lot 63 Buildings at back

Leslies Restaurant, Fresh Up with your Meal

Harry’s Cafe, Teas & Snacks, Breakfasts & Dinners

Valente’s Cafe, Hackney Rd

Cafe Restaurant

Dinkie

Station Cafe

Fish Bar

J Kelly, No Prams or Trollie’s, Please

G Kelly

Charlie & Mick’s Cafe

Menu at Charlie & Mick’s Cafe

John Pelican

Joe’s Saloon – ‘We cater for long and short hair styles’

M Evans & Sons, Garn Dairy

Marion’s, Blouses, Trouser Suits, Smock Dresses, Ect.

Sunset Stores

N Berg, Watch & Clock Repairs

S Grant, High Class Tailor, Seamens Outfitter

Littlewood Brothers Ltd, Domestic Stores, Grocery & Hardware

J Galley & Sons, Established 1901

Henry Freund & Son, Established 1837

Rito for Better Roof Repairs

Common Market NO

Alan Enterprises Ltd, L & R Ostroff Ltd, Brick Lane

Photographs copyright © Chris Miles

You may also like to take a look at

John Claridge’s Cafe Society

Tony Hall at the Shops

Alan Dein’s Shopfronts

Click here to book for my tours

Any readers from out of town who are preparing a visit to the capital this summer might like to read these excerpts from The Stranger’s Guide, exposing all the frauds of London, that I found in the archive at the Bishopsgate Institute.

The Countryman arrived in London.

Beaten by bullies & robbed.

Escaped & chased by watchmen.

Returned home gives a queer account of London.

BAWDS – Beware, young women, of those who, without any knowledge, pretend to be acquainted with you, your families and friends. This is an old bait to entice young women to their den to be devoured by the ravenous wolves to whom the bawd is a provider. Beware, ye unthinking young men, of receiving letters of assignation to meet at her house, for such letters are calculated to ensnare you and bring you to misery and destroy your health, fame and fortune. Avoid, ye countrymen and women, the pretended friendships of strangers that welcome you to town upon the arrival of the coach and that accost you at the inns, as they generally attend there for that purpose. If you once permit them to converse with you, they will by their artful  speeches, so far ingratiate themselves into your good graces as the engage your belief, get the better of your resolutions  and at length bring  you, by listening to their stories, to ruin and destruction.

BULLIES – Are dependent upon bawds & whores, sometimes the bully pretends to be the husband of the whore, whose bread he eats, whose quarrel he fights, and at whose call he is ready to do as commanded. It is very common for these women to bring home a gentleman and on entering the house ask the maid in a whisper if her master is at home. The maid according to former instructions replies, “No, he is gone out of town and will not return until tomorrow.” Upon which the gentleman is invited in and entertained with a story of the bully’s jealousy and the whore’s constancy. When the gentleman expresses a desire to leave and the bill being called for, he finds fault with the change, then the maid enters and says her master is below and immediately the bully appears and demands to know the gentleman’s business there – if means to debauch his wife? He then blusters and talks about bringing an action but at length is pacified by the bill being discharged.

DUFFERS –  These are a set of men that play upon the credulity of both sexes, by plying at the corner of streets, courts and alleys, their contraband wares, which generally consist of silk handkerchiefs made in Spitalfields, remnants of silk purchased at the piece brokers, which they tell you are true India, and stockings from Rag Fair or Field Lane, sometimes stolen, sometimes bought at very low prices, which they declare are just smuggled in from France, and therefore can afford to give you a bargain, if you will become the purchaser. On the other hand, should you not purchase, you will get abused and your pocket picked, at which they are very dexterous. Or, should you give them money to change, they tell you they will step to the public house to get it changed and come again in an instant. Then you see them enter the house and discover later, upon enquiry, they have escaped by the back door, to your great loss and mortification.

FORTUNE TELLERS & CONJURERS –  Almost all countries abound with these vermin. In London, we have several very famous in the Astrological Science, who pretend to a knowledge of future events by observations of the celestial signs of the zodiac. The better to carry on their delusions, they can tell you whether your life will be happy or miserable, rich or poor, fruitful or barren, and thousand incidents to please your fancy and raise your curiosity, insinuating at the same time (if they think you have money about you) that much good awaits you, therefore they must have a greater price for their intelligence. Who would not give or guinea, nay two – say they for the completion of their wishes, be it wisdom or wealth,  rather than a half a crown to learn that they might live in folly and poverty the rest of their lives?

FOOTPADS –  Are so numerous and so often described in the public papers that little new light can be thrown upon them and their practices. Daring insolence and known-down arguments are generally their first salute, after which they rifle your pockets and, if you have but little of value about you, they often maim or violently bruise you for want of that you are not in possession of. These shocking acts of these rapacious sons of plunder call for the interference of the magistracy to put a stop to their daring and consummate impudence as they exhibit, in and about the metropolis, skulking in bye-lanes, desolate places, hedges and commons, in order to waylay the unsuspecting stranger or countryman.

GAMBLERS – There are so many methods of gambling as there are trades and they move in so many spheres, from the most noble dukes and duchesses to the most abandoned chimney-sweeper, pretenders to honour and honesty, versed in various tricks and arts, by which many among the nobility and the gentry have squandered away their fortunes for the occupation of a Complete Gambler or in the true sense of the word, an Expert Gambler. The better to put you on guard against this villainy, I will mention several of the most fashionable and alluring passtimes at which various methods of deluding and cheating are practiced with some success, viz. gaming houses and horse races, cock-fighting, bowling, billiards, tennis, pharo, rouge et noir, hazard &c. together with routs, assemblies, masquerades and concerts, of a particular or private nature. In the latter of these, you will find notorious gamblers of the female sex, who deal in art and deception, as well as some more notorious male cheats who barter one commodity for another without a reference of credit or making it a debt of honour.

HANGERS-ON – These are a set of men of an indolent life, who rather than labour to gain a livelihood, will submit to any meanness that they may eat the bread of idleness. There are many kinds, some pretending to understand the sciences, others the arts, some set up for authors, others wits and the like. Hangers-on will eat or drink with you wherever you stay but will never offer to pay a farthing, however in lieu thereof, they will tell you an indecent story or sing you the latest lewd song. These you will easily find out and may easily get rid of by not treating or encouraging them upon your arrival.

HIGHWAYMEN – Are desperate and resolute persons who having spent their patrimony or lavished their substance upon whores and gamesters, take to the road, in order to retrieve their broken fortunes and either recoup them by meeting with good booty or end their lives in Newgate. The best means to avoid highwaymen is not to travel by night and in be cautious in displaying money, banknotes or other valuables at the inns you put up at, and be careful what company you join for fear they learn of whither you are going and for what purpose – if to pay or receive money, they will almost certainly waylay and rob, if not murder you.

JILTS – Are ladies of easy virtue, who, through an hypocritical sanctity of manners, and pretensions to virtue and religion, draw the countryman and inexperienced cit into their clutches. Of all whores, the jilt is the most to be avoided – for knowing more than others, she is capable of doing more mischief.

KIDNAPPERS or CRIMPS –  A set of men of abandoned principles, who having lavished away their fortunes enter into the pay of the East India Company, in order to recruit their army – and, in time of war, when a guinea or two is advertised to be given to any person that brings a proper man, of five feet eight or nine inches high, these kidnappers lie in wait in different places of rendezvous, in order to entrap men for money.

RING-DROPPERS – These are a set of cheats, who frequently cheat simple people, both from the country and in London, out of their money, but most commonly practice their villainous arts upon young women. Their method is to drop a ring just before such persons come up, when they accost them thus, “Young woman, I have found a ring and I believe it is gold for it has a stamp upon it.” Immediately, an accomplice joins in, who being asked the question replies, “It is gold.” “Well” says the formers, “As this young woman saw me pick it up, she has the right to half of it.” As it often happens that the young person has but a few shillings in her pocket,  the dropper says, “If you have a mind for the ring, you shall have it for what you have got in your pocket and whatever else you can give me,” which sometimes turns out to be a good handkerchief, cloak or other article. The deluded creature then shows the ring to another person in the street who informs her she is cheated by sharpers and the ring is not worth tuppence, being only brass gilt with a false stamp put on the deceive the unwary.

PICK-POCKETS – There are more pick-pockets in and about London than in all Europe besides, that make a trade and what they call a good living by their employment. The opera, playhouses, capital auctions, public gardens &c swarm with them. And, of late years, they have introduced themselves into our very churches and more particularly Methodist meetings. Therefore it would be prudent, when in a crowd, to keep one hand on your money and the other on your watch, when you find anyone push against you. Pocket books are only secure in the inside pocket with the coat buttoned and watch chains should be run through a small loop contrived for the purpose of securing the watch in the fob.

QUACKS – These  are a set of vile wretches who pretend to be versed in physic and surgery, without education, or even knowledge of a common recipe. If they think the patient is able to pay handsomely, they make them believe their case is desperate and generally turn them out worse than they find them.

SETTERS – These are a dangerous set of wretches who are capable of committing any villainy, as well by trapping a rich heir into matrimony with a cast-off mistress as by coupling a young heiress to a notorious sharper, down to the lowest scene of setting debtors for the bailiff and his followers. Smitten at the first glance of a lady, you resign your heart and hand at discretion, which she immediately accepts, on a presumption that delays are dangerous. The conjugal knot being tied, you find the promised and wished-for land, houses and furniture, the property of another and not of yourself.

SMUGGLERS – These are a numerous race of people that have no other way of living than following the illegal practice of smuggling. Two different gangs are concerted in carrying on this wicked business, the first to import the goods from abroad and the other to dispose of them when landed, but if the first were taken and punished as they deserve, the latter would fall of course.

WAGON HUNTERS – These are errant thieves, that ply in the dusk of the evening to rob the wagons upon their arrival. They are equally skillful in cutting away portmanteaus, trunks and boxes from behind chaises &c, if not thoroughly watched, which is the duty of every driver to take care of, by attending to the vehicle under his charge and giving a good look-out.

Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute

You may also like to read about

John Fairburn’s Chapbooks

Join me for tea and cakes freshly baked to recipe of 1720 served in a 300 year old house. Click here for tickets for next Saturday’s tour of Spitalfields

You only walk in the alleys if you have a strong stomach and stout shoes, if you are willing to ignore the stink and the sinister puddles for the sake of striking out alone from the throng of humanity coursing along Bishopsgate.

This whole place was once characterised by the warren of alleys and yards which laced the streets. And, when the fancy takes me to enter those that remain, it is in thrall to the delusion that maybe I can find a way back through the labyrinth to old Spitalfields. There is part of my mind that wonders if I will ever find my way out again and another part of me that yearns for this outcome, longing to find an alley that is a portal to a parallel world.

Of the alleys that tempt the innocent pedestrian emerging from Liverpool St Station, only Catherine Wheel Alley actually leads anywhere, delivering you by means of a dog-leg to Middlesex St. Stepping beneath the arched entrance and passing under the low ceiling above, you emerge behind the buildings which line the street to discover yourself at the bottom of a well where sunlight descends, bouncing off the ceramic bricks lining the walls. You walk dead straight in the blind faith that a route lies ahead and enter a tiny yard, where you may surprise a guilty smoker enjoying an illicit cigarette.

“Can I get through?” asked a lone woman I encountered, approaching from the opposite direction with a disarming lack of wariness. I stood against the wall in the yard here to consider the confluence of buildings that intersect in elaborate ways overhead and, to my surprise, a door opened in the wall behind me and an Eastern European woman asked me to step aside as she hauled out two sack of rubbish before disappearing again. From this yard, a narrow street leads uneventfully to Middlesex St – the drama of the alley diminished once the destination is apparent.

Perhaps most people avoid these empty alleys for fear of what they might discover? Individuals engaged in lewd activity or relieving bodily functions, or injecting pharmaceuticals, or threatening violence, or robbery, or worse? Yet every corner of every alley has a film camera gazing down, removing the possibility of any truly clandestine activity.

The lack of space in these passages demands that people acknowledge each other and the code of mutual disregard which prevails in the street cannot hold. This is the true magnetism of alleys, as escape routes from the hegemony of the crowd. The spatial disorientation, leaving street sounds behind you, as you enter an ambiguous architectural maze is a welcome respite. You can turn in the alley and look back to the people on the pavement, and you discover you have become invisible – they no longer see you.

You may also like to read about

The Streets of Old London

The Forgotten Corners of Old London

The Whitechapel Mount in 1801. Was the Mount an ancient burial mound? Was it where all the leylines converge in East London? Visit the site of the Whitechapel Mount on my new tour and discover the mystery of the Mount. Tickets are available on Sundays 23rd August, 6th and 23rd September, and 18th October. Tour includes tea and apple strudel at the Whitechapel Gallery. Click here to book

Between 2012-2014, photographer Colin O’Brien documented Whitechapel, recording the changes delivered by the Olympics and the building of the Elizabeth Line. A decade later the transformation has only accelerated.

Photographs copyright Estate of Colin O’Brien

You may also like to take a look at

Colin O’Brien at the Whitechapel Mission

Colin O’Brien at the Blind Beggar

Click here to book tickets

Fifty years ago, Dragan Novaković took these pictures of the ancient Club Row animal and bird market which closed in 1983 when street trading in live animals became outlawed

Photographs copyright © Dragan Novaković

You also might like to take a look

Dragan Novaković’s Brick Lane

Kaye Webb & Ronald Searle at Club Row

Click here for tickets

Liverpool St Station

Shall we take a tour around the East End in the early eighties in the company of David Johnson, courtesy of his wonderful Kodachrome images?

“My interest in London’s history goes back to the late sixties, when as a teenager I would take the train from Oxford and then, using a Red Bus Rover ticket and a copy of Geoffrey Fletcher’s The London Nobody Knows, discover some of the most interesting and off-beat parts of the capital. In 1977, seeking a job after graduating and with a strong interest in photography, I ended up in London selling cameras in Tottenham Court Rd. I first explored the old wharves and docklands before they disappeared and then, after moving to Dalston, the East End. Derelict buildings, faded signs, architecture on a human scale are all things which I liked to photograph then – and still do today.”

David Johnson

Liverpool St Station

Liverpool St Station

Liverpool St Station

Artillery Lane

Brushfield St

Christ Church Spitalfields

Fashion St

Spitalfields barber

Hanbury St

Brick Lane

Homeless men in Spitalfields

The City from Spitalfields

Whitechapel Market

Wapping Police Station

Wapping

St Paul’s School, Wellclose Sq

Wapping High St

River Plate Wharf

Wapping

Wapping Pier Head

The Gun, Isle of Dogs

The Black Horse, Limehouse

Grove Place, Hackney

Empress Coaches, Hackney

Regent’s Canal

Cat & Mutton Bridge

Broadway Market

Broadway Market

George Tallet, Fishmonger, Hackney

Carr’s Pet Stores, Hackney

Trederwen Rd, Hackney

Photographs copyright © David Johnson

Click here to book

“These are all my worldly goods,” said Darren when he spread out these modest items to show Photographer Moyra Peralta in 1997. Moyra asked those she had befriended who lived upon the street to permit her to photograph the contents of their pockets and these pictures were the result.

Darren (Waterloo) – Dog, dog leads, keys on key-ring, penknife, cigarettes, lighter, matches, loose change, shoppers’ points card, religious medals on a string, prayer printed on a metal plate, photo of a dog, paperclip, safety pins, nine packets of sugar, paper serviette, personal papers, pain-killers, emery board and several plastic change bags.

Richard (Holborn) – Busking spoons (for `ham and egg-ing’, ie begging), diary, passport, one roll-up , matches, tobacco, cigarette papers, allowance book, medical prescription, Department of Social Security letter, penknife, photograph, paper tissues, and twenty-one pence.

Michael (Covent Garden) – Social Security book, moneybag, a pair of spectacles with case, a religious picture and prayer, a crucifix and chain, a five pound note, London Underground travel ticket, loose change, a US coin, two lighters, a pencil, comb, a chewing gum, a Medilink card and church postcards.

Chris, Malcolm & Jimmy (Trafalgar Sq) –  Personal stereo, lighters, cigarettes, vitamin tablets, legal and medical papers,
 a photograph of Jack Nicholson, a cartoon drawing, copper coins, a match, a wristband and a lucky sprig of heather.

Sean (Covent Garden) – A Begging placard, a peeled orange, money tin, loose change, a paper hankie, cashew nuts, a pair of socks, an 
origami flower, a pocket dictionary, a postcard, a religious picture, a whistle, shoelaces, a plaster, a broken pencil and an Irish coin.

Rory – Virgin Atlantic docket, address book, a miniature elephant mascot, a personal stereo, two paperbacks, 
`british passport, an inhaler, a brush, two cigarette lighters, a matchbook, a pen, a hammer (for breaking into squats) and a torch (belonging to a friend).

Johnnie (Holborn) – A hairbrush, reading glasses, cigarette papers, tobacco, a lighter, a pair of scissors, a razor, a toothbrush, a toothpaste, vitamin capsules, a wallet, photographs, an envelope with more photographs, batteries, coins, a pen, a paperback and cream bath lotion.

Simon (Holborn) – A tobacco tin, some dog-ends, matches, a candle stub, loose change, paper towels, dog biscuits and bone, a collar and lead, a necklace, combs, a prescription, a notebook,  a paperback, two photos, stamps, a copy of In & Around Covent Garden magazine, a cassette, a button, an envelope, a pencil, a bullet,  a plastic knife and fork, and three tubes of glue.

Ray (Strand) – a wallet, a notebook, tissues, an address book, a news cutting, an Outreach contact card, phone cards, dice, a stamp, loose change, combs, a pair of spectacles, a watch, a pen, a playing card, a cigar stub, a pen cap, bottle of mouthwash, matches, buttons, shaving cream, soap, a piece of string, a needle, thread, a safety razor in a plastic case, throat sweets, scissors, antiseptic cream, wire and wire springs and a paperback.

Tommy (Holborn Station) – Copies of The Big Issue, a Vendor’s Identity Card, a spectacle case, cigarettes, peppermints, nail-clippers and a wristwatch.

Tony & Sandy –  Rolling tobacco, a lighter, cigarette papers, painkillers, a plaster and a comb.

Richard displays his worldly goods in Holborn.

Photographs copyright © Estate of Moyra Peralta

You may also like to read about

Moyra Peralta in Spitalfields

Moyra Peralta’s Street Portraits

Click here to book

In my desk drawer, I keep this fine set of London Characters, cigarette cards by an unknown artist issued by Lambert & Butler in 1934.

Remarkably, The Chestnut Seller, The Boot Black, The Coffee-Stall Keeper, The Flower-Seller, The Ice-Cream Vendor, The Fish-Stall Keeper and The Pavement Artist survive, in very limited numbers and in differing forms. With references to black-shirts and the depression, these cards speak eloquently of the life of inter-war London, – ‘these enlightened days of stainless steel ‘ as they are described here with brash confidence. Yet, only yesterday, I saw a woman standing outside Liverpool St Station with a large handmade placard ,’2 Bedroom Flat to Sell,’ which made me wonder if we might be on the brink of a street-selling revival in our capital.

“Baked Chestnuts!” – With the approach of autumn, the Baked Chestnut Man wheels his barrow with its glowing fire – over which the chestnuts pop and sizzle – to a frequented spot where the appetizing smell of his wares tempts pennies from the pockets of the passers-by.

A Billingsgate Porter – Beginning his day’s work at five am, the Billingsgate Porter has nearly finished his labours by the time the trains and buses are unloading hundreds of City workers onto Eastcheap and Fish St Hill – streets which are pervaded by the unmistakable sea-weedy and fishy odours which never entirely depart from the neighbourhood of the Monument.

The Boot-Black – In bygone days, the boot-black was found in every street corner. Each man had a large tin kettle for removing mud, two or three brushes and a very old wig – the latter being indispensable in a shoeblack outfit, very useful for whisking away dust and wiping off wet mud.

The “Cabby” – Drivers of “growlers” and “hansom” cabs are still to be seen, and may be recognised by their whole-hearted contempt for motors, their ready wit and and preferences for frequenting places associated with horses, such as Tattersall’s, Barnet Fair and Regent’s Park on Whit Monday.

“Catch ‘Em Alive!” – Modern hygiene with its slogan “Swat that fly” has done away forever with, “Catch ’em alive, O!” – the cry of the tall man in the tall hat which displayed a struggling mass of flies on its sticky trimming.

The Chair-Mender – The kerbside mender of chairs, who “if he had more money to spend would not be crying – “Chairs to mend!” is one of the neatest-fingered of street traders. Watch how deftly he weaves his strips of cane in and out – how neatly he finishes off each chair, returning it to the owner, “good as new.”

The Coffee-Stall Keeper – Many a drama of London-in-the-darkness is enacted at the coffee stall, which trundles its way each evening to its pitch where it remains until the city begins to awaken. Men and women of many types seek its hospitality during the hours of darkness, “down and outs” rubbing shoulders with revellers returning home in the early morning – and not a few are gladdened by a copper or two thrust into their hands by comrades a little better off than themselves.

The Cornet Player – A character never lacking in London streets is the Cornet Player, who provides a kind of magic that draws dogs like a magnet to him. He relies chiefly upon the licensed houses for his living, and can usually be recognised by his bulk.

The Covent Garden Porter – The Covent Garden Porter is the “Cockney of all the Cockneys” – good-humoured, hard working and possessed of a ready wit. Like his confrère at Billingsgate, he has been accused of being a “linguist” but although his speech may occasionally be forceful and picturesque, there is doubtless many a fox-hunting squire who might give him points and a licking!

The Crossing Sweeper – In bygone days, the Crossing Sweeper was a veritable “gentleman” of the road, who in many cases inherited his broom and his pitch from his parents. Tradition relates that the profession of a crossing sweeper was at one time a safe road to fortune.

The Flower Seller – The Flowers Sellers or perhaps more correctly “flower-girls” – for flower sellers in London always remain girls irrespective of age – are among the most picturesque of London characters. The flower-girl of Piccadilly, sitting beside her gay and fragrant basket in the shadow of “Eros” is the aristocrat of them all.

The Hyde Park Orator – Red-shirt, black-shirt, green-shirt and others – all are sure of an audience, especially on Sundays, when occupying their rostrums near Marble Arch. they are usually prepared for good-natured heckling – and often get it! Should things take a less friendly turn, there is always a “bobby” to keep his eye on things!

The Ice-Cream Vendor –  The old-fashioned ice-cream barrow is dying hard, despite the rivalry of mass-production. Ice-cream “merchants” were usually Italian and the gaudy representations of Lake Como and the Rialto decorating his stall. Invariably called “Johnnie,” he met the demands of his of his youthful clientele, of messenger-boys and the like – to whom ice-cream makes an irresistible appeal – with exemplary patience and good humour.

The Kerbstone Trader – Dignity fails at the sight of the Kerbstone Trader. Aldermen, merchants and mere office-boys “fall” for his latest novelty “all made to wind up.” Red hot from an important board meeting, the Chairman of the Company relaxes on hearing the unspeakable sounds which proceed from the slow collapsing india-rubber pig.

The Newsboy – In some respects, the Newsboy reveals quite remarkable business instincts, chief among them his gift of shouting commonplace news in such a manner to make it sound important. He reads his own papers – how and when is a complete mystery – for his eye is always on a likely customer, but he can always tell you what Arsenal has done, and who is riding the favourite in the “big ‘un.”

The Old Fish-Stall Keeper – Wherever Londoners gather together, the fish-stall is found, whether in the crowded streets or one of the seas-side resorts where Cockneys take their doses of  ozone. “Arry” and “Arriet” do much of their courting around the whelk stall, and comic singers owe much amusing patter to its delicacies, winkles and the necessary “extra” in the shape of a pin.

The Organ Grinder – The Organ Grinder and his monkey belong to a less sophisticated age than the present, with its bands of unemployed musicians and “tinned music” in various forms. This organist of the eighties was usually a native of Switzerland and instrument was a worn-out organ, under the weight of which he could sometimes scarcely stagger.

The Pavement Artist –  He is above all an optimist – a sudden shower and all his day’s work is in vain!  You may find him in any open space – near St Martin-In-The-Fields, Trafalgar Sq or on the Embankment – with his equipment of brightly-coloured chalks and a duster. The pavement artist is said to have been “the cradle” of some successful artists, but is certain that many who have known better days have resorted to this means of making a living.

The Quack Medicine Man – The “Medicine Man” of the street corner sells many things, from a cure for toothache to a remedy for broken hearts. Blessed with a wonderful gift of the gab and an endless store of ready wit, he is ready to expose all the secrets of Pharmacopoeia.

The Rag & Bone Man – The cry of “rags and bones” is familiar in the meaner streets, but often it is nit easy to recognise the words! Closely allied with the dealer in “rags” is the dealer of “old clo!” – the lady or gentleman who offers an aspidistra or a pot of ferns for an overcoat or a pair of trousers which has seen better days!

The Knife Grinder – Even in these enlightened days of stainless steel, the old-fashioned Knife Grinder may still  be seen plying his trade in the London streets, with his well-known cry, “Knives, scissors, grind!” His lack of wares is more than compensated for by the picturesqueness of his outfit.

The Muffin Man –  This is the Muffin Man, his bell clangs out its story of cosy fireside teas, and at the same time announces that summer is over! But history relates that ever since one of the fraternity was summoned for ringing his bell on a Sunday afternoon, the Muffin Man must choose with care the locality in which he goes selling the muffins.

The Sandwich Man – The Sandwich Man strikes a minor note in the great symphony of London life. His is the métier of the unfortunate, and sometimes his role as a perambulating advertisement is tinged with bitter irony. The shabby man directing all and sundry to the smart tailor, and the shaggy man advertising a first-class barber are bad enough, but what is one to say of the poor stray condemned to carry a board advertising the price of a first-class lunch with complete menu?

The Windmill Man – The Windmill Man will go down to posterity as a kind of “Pied Pier” who lured away the children from the noise and squalor of the streets to fairyland. The sound of his voice – for street vendors are still permitted to call their wares in the meaner streets – is a signal for a throng of scampering children to gather round him to exchange old bottles for gaily-painted windmills.

You may also like to take a look at these other sets of the Cries of London

Geoffrey Fletcher’s Pavement Pounders

Faulkner’s Street Cries

William Craig Marshall’s Itinerant Traders

London Melodies

Henry Mayhew’s Street Traders

H.W.Petherick’s London Characters

John Thomson’s Street Life in London

Aunt Busy Bee’s New London Cries

Marcellus Laroon’s Cries of London

John Player’s Cries of London

More John Player’s Cries of London

William Nicholson’s London Types

John Leighton’s London Cries

Francis Wheatley’s Cries of London

John Thomas Smith’s Vagabondiana of 1817

John Thomas Smith’s Vagabondiana II

John Thomas Smith’s Vagabondiana III

Thomas Rowlandson’s Lower Orders

More of Thomas Rowlandson’s Lower Orders