In Search Of The Ropemakers Of Stepney
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Rope makers of Stepney
In Stepney, there has always been an answer to the question, “How long is a piece of string?” It is as long as the distance between St Dunstan’s Church and Commercial Rd, which is the extent of the former Frost Brothers’ Rope Factory.
Let me explain how I came upon this arcane piece of knowledge. I published a series of photographs from a copy of Frost Brothers’ Album in the archive of the Bishopsgate Institute produced around 1900, illustrating the process of rope making and yarn spinning. As a consequence, a reader of Spitalfields Life walked into the Institute and donated a series of four group portraits of rope makers at Frost Brothers which I publish here.
I find these pictures even more interesting than the ones I first showed because, while the photos in the Album illustrate the work of the factory, in these newly-revealed photos the subject is the rope makers themselves.
There are two pairs of pictures. Photographed on the same day, the first pair taken – in my estimation – around 1900, show a gang of men looking rather proud of themselves. There is a clear hierarchy among them and, in the first photo, they brandish tankards suggesting some celebratory occasion. The men in bowler hats assume authority and allow themselves more swagger while those in caps withhold their emotions. Yet although all these men are deliberately presenting themselves to the camera, there is relaxed quality and swagger in these pictures which communicates a vivid sense of the personality and presence of the subjects.
The other two photographs show larger groups and I believe were taken as much as a decade earlier. I wonder if the tall man in the bowler hat with a moustache in the centre of the back row in the first of these is the same as the man in the bowler hat in the later photographs? In these earlier photographs, the subjects have been corralled for the camera and many regard us with a weary implacable gaze.
The last of the photographs is the most elaborately staged and detailed. It repays attention for the diverse variety of expressions among its subjects, ranging from blank incomprehension of some to the tenderness of the young couple with the young man’s hands upon the young woman’s shoulders – a fleeting gesture of tenderness recorded for eternity.
I was so fascinated by these photographs I wanted to go and find the rope works for myself and, on an old map, I discovered the ropery stretching from Commercial Rd to St Dunstan’s, but – alas – I could discern nothing on the ground to indicate it was ever there. The Commercial Rd end of the factory is now occupied by the Tower Hamlets car pound, while the long extent of the ropery has been replaced by a terrace of house called Lighterman’s Court that, in its length and extent, follows the pattern of the earlier building quite closely. At the northern end, there is now a park where the factory reached the road facing St Dunstan’s. Yet the terraces of nineteenth century housing in Bromley St and Belgrave St remain on either side and, in Bromley St, the British Prince where the rope makers once quenched their thirsts still stands.
After the disappointment of my quest to find the rope works, I cherish these photographs of the rope makers of Stepney even more as the best record we have of their existence.
Gang of rope makers at Frost Brothers (You can click to enlarge this image)
Rope makers with a bale of fibre and reels of twine (You can click to enlarge this image )
Rope makers including women and boys with coils of rope (You can click to enlarge this image)
Frost Brothers Ropery stretched from Commercial St to St Dunstan’s Churchyard in Stepney
In Bromley St
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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Raphael Samuel’s Farewell To Spitalfields
Tickets are available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields throughout the summer
In 1988, the Bishopsgate Institute staged an exhibition entitled A Farewell to Spitalfields curated by John Shaw and Raphael Samuel, the distinguished historian of the East End. The purpose was to assess the history of Spitalfields in the light of the changes that were forthcoming, as a result of the closure of the Truman Brewery and the Fruit & Vegetable Market – and it is my pleasure to publish these excerpts from Raphael Samuel’s introductory essay accompanied by David Bateman’s photographs of the Spitalfields Market, commissioned as part of this exhibition.
More than a quarter of a century later, it is sobering to recognise the prescience of Raphael Samuel’s words. He was a historian with strong opinions who, on the basis of this article alone, demonstrated an ability to write about the future as clearly as he wrote the past. The Spitalfields portrayed in these pictures has gone and now – for better or worse – we live in the Spitalfields that Raphael Samuel, who died in 1996, wrote of yet did not live to see.
Spitalfields is the oldest industrial suburb in London. It was already densely peopled and “almost entirely built over,” in 1701 when Lambeth was still a marsh, Fulham a market garden and Tottenham Court Rd a green. It owes its origins to those refugee traditions which, in defiance of the Elizabethan building regulations, and to escape the restrictions of the City Guilds, settled in Bishopsgate Without and the Liberty of Norton Folgate.
Spitalfields is a junction between, on the one hand, a settled, indigenous population, and on the other, wave upon wave of newcomer. Even when it was known as ‘The Weavers’ Parish,’ it was still hospitable to many others – poor artisans, street sellers, labourers among them. In the late nineteenth century Spitalfields was one of the great receiving points for Jewish immigration and the northern end of the parish provided a smilar point of entry for country labourers. There was a whole colony of them at Great Eastern Buildings in the eighteen eighties, working as draymen at the brewery, and another at the Bishopsgate Goods Station. This ‘mixed’ character of the neighbourhood is very much in evidence today.
Spitalfields Market – threatened with imminent destruction by a coalition of property developers, City Fathers, and conservationists – is almost as old as Spitalfields. It was already in existence when the area was still an artillery range. In John Stow’s ‘Survey of London’ (1601) it appears a trading point “for fruit, fowl and root.” A market sign was incorporated in the coat of arms for the Liberty of Norton Folgate in Restoration times, and the market’s Royal Charter dates from 1682. The market, in short, preceded the arrival of the Hugeunots and has some claim to being Spitalfields’ original core. The market continued as a collection of ramshackle sheds and stalls until it was transformed, in the 1870s, by Robert Horner, who bought the lease of the land from the Goldsmid family in 1875. Horner was a crow scarer from Essex who, according to market myth, walked to London, became a porter in the market and eventually got a share in a firm. Ambitiously, he set about both securing monopoly rights for the existing traders, and replacing the impromptu buildings with a purpose built market hall – the “Horner” buildings which today is the oldest part of the market complex.
The older, eastern portion of the market is the direct product of Robert Horner’s vision of his own situation. It is built in the manner of the English Arts & Crafts movement. On its own terms, the old market is a pleasing piece and a worthy addition to the diversity of Spitalfields. Its rusticated archways on the Commercial St facade and the repeated peaks of the roof with their smallish sash windows lend a clearly Victorian flavour to Commercial St, which was largely a Victorian venture anyway. Inside the market it is a vintagely Victorian hall of glass and iron of unassuming beauty, even more so when at work, then its true worth as a genuinely functioning piece of Victorian space is revealed. Like St. Pancras in a different way, it has an element of the museum and an aesthetic that overlays the original construction upon utilitarian principles. Most of all the old market appears as a peculiarly English space. An effect that is heightened by the lavish use of ‘Wimbledon’ green. It is that deep traditional green that characterises English municipal space and that, in this case helps to marry the market to the discordant additions of the late 1920’s and to give distinction to the territorial boundaries of the market that have been historically more fluid.
The old market is a celebration of trade, a great piece of Victorian working space, not only of great historical value itself, but contributing to the visual manifestation of the historical development of the whole of Spitalfields. It is a worthy layer in an area that grew by a sort of architectural sedimentation. Hawksmoor’s Christ Church, the Huguenot fronts of Artillery Passage, the Georgian elegance of Elder St and the smaller houses of Wilkes St and Princelet St, the mid-Victorian utility of the Peabody Buildings, the rustic character of the old market, the twentieth century neo-classicism of the Fruit Exchange and several examples of a more unspeakable modernity are some among many accretions which contribute to make Spitalfields what it is. The most perfect example of a palimpsest in which diversity rather than Georgiana or Victoriana represent the true nature of the area.
The character of a district is determined not by its buildings, but by the ensemble of different uses to which they are put, and, above all, by the character of the users. It should be obvious to all but the self-deceived, that to stick an international banking centre in the heart of an old artisan and market quarter, a huge complex with some six thousand executives and subalterns, is, to put it gently, a rupture from tradition. The whole industrial economy of Spitalfields rests on cheap work rooms: rentals in the new office complex are some eight times greater than they are in the purlieus of Brick Lane, and with the dizzy rise in property values which will follow the new development, accommodation of all kinds, whether for working space or home, will be beyond local people. The market scheme will mean a social revolution, the inversion of what Spitalfields has stood for during four centuries of metropolitan development.
The fate of Spitalfields market illustrates in stark form some of the paradoxes of contemporary metropolitan development: on the one hand, the preservation of ‘historic’ houses; on the other, the wholesale destruction of London’s hereditary occupations and trades and the dispersal of its settled communities. The viewer is thus confronted with two versions of ‘enterprise’ culture: the one that of family business and small scale firms, the other that of international high finance with computer screens linking the City of London to the money markets of the world.
This set of photographs by David Bateman show something of the activity of the market today in what – if the Second Reading of the Market Bill continues its progress through Parliament – are likely to be its closing months.
Raphael Samuel 22nd July 1988
Photographs copyright © David Bateman
Syd Shelton’s East End
Tickets are available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields on Saturday 25th May
Brick Lane 1978
Photographer Syd Shelton‘s enduring fascination with the East End was sparked by a childhood visit from Yorkshire with an uncle and aunt more than fifty years ago. “My cousin was was working in a mission somewhere off Bethnal Green Rd,” Syd recalled, “It was a scary part of London then and I remember my uncle looked out of the window every few minutes to check the wheels were still on his car!”
“The day I left college in 1968, I came down to London and I have worked here ever since, photographing continuously in Hackney and Tower Hamlets,” Syd admitted to me.
In the seventies, Syd became one of the founders of Rock Against Racism, using music as a force for social cohesion, and his photographs of this era include many affectionate images of racial harmony alongside a record of the culture of racism . “It was an exciting time when, after the death of Altab Ali, the Asian community stood up to be counted and the people of the East End became militant against the National Front,” he explained, “In 1981, I got a studio in the Kingsland Rd and I only gave it up recently because the rents became too expensive.”
Syd’s portraits of East Enders span four decades yet he did not set out consciously to document social change. “I never started this as a project, it’s only when I looked back that I realised I had taken swathes of pictures of people in the East End,” he explained, “So now I come back and spend a day on the streets each week to continue.”
“I say I am not a documentary photographer, because I like to talk to people before I take my picture to see what I can coax out of them,” he qualified,“Taking photos is what makes my heart beat.”
Bethnal Green 1980
Linda, Kingsland Rd 1981
Bethnal Green 1980
Bagger, Cambridge Heath Rd 1979
Columbia Rd 1978
Jubilee St, 1979
Petticoat Lane 1981
Brick Lane 1978
Aldgate East 1979
Hoxton 1979
Tower Hamlets 1981
Brick Lane 1976
Jubilee St 1977
Brick Lane 1978
School Cleaners’ Strike 1978
Petticoat Lane 1978
David Widgery, Limehouse 1981
Sisters, Bow 1984
Sisters, Tower Hamlets 1988
Bow Scrapyard 1984
Ridley Rd Market 1992
Ridley Rd Market 1992
Ridley Rd Market 1995
Whitechapel 2013
Shadwell 2013
Brick Lane 2013
Dalston Lane 2013
Bethnal Green 2013
Photographs copyright © Syd Shelton
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What The Gentle Author Did Next
Regular readers will know that it is not my custom to speak about myself too much, but I was persuaded to give an interview at some length to the estimable Albion Magazine which devotes itself a serious exploration of British culture. Readers may find it of interest to learn of some of my activities beyond this daily blog.
I feel honoured that my interview with Isabel Taylor has been published as the lead feature in the magazine’s twentieth anniversary edition.
You can read it by clicking on this link to ALBION MAGAZINE
Tickets are available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields on Saturday 25th May
Peter Riley, Kitchen Porter & Cleaner
Tickets are available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields on Saturday 25th May
Peter Riley
I was surprised and delighted when Peter Riley joined my tour last Saturday. He was passing Christ Church and grew curious when he heard me talking about Spitalfields as a place of sanctuary and refuge, so he walked over to listen and tagged along.
After the tour Peter apologised that he had not booked a ticket, explaining that he was homeless and had been sleeping under bridges and in parks locally for the past three months. He asked if he could tell me his story and if I would publish it.
It was evident from his manner that Peter was a gentle soul of decent character who deserved better. It was also obvious that he was a vulnerable individual and I could not imagine how he had endured these recent months of cold damp weather, sleeping outdoors and often walking all night.
So I took Peter for lunch in Brick Lane yesterday, and learned of his courage and resilience despite his fractured life. It was disappointing but unsurprising to discover that Peter had been let down by those authorities and institutions whose responsibility it is to help him.
Reliable and hardworking, Peter has a lot to offer. I publish his story today in the hope that one of my local readers might be able to assist him in finding a job and somewhere to live. (Please email spitalfieldslife@gmail.com if you can help).
‘I was born in Burnley, Lancashire, with two brothers and two sisters. My mother worked as a nurse at hospital in Manchester. When I was seven years old, my dad moved to London and we lived in Casson House off Brick Lane. In Burnley, he ran a restaurant but in London he stayed at home and looked after us kids.
In 1980, my dad took me, my mum, and my sister to a village in Bangladesh. We lived in a house surrounded by trees and I liked it there, I felt safe. Yet when we were there, my dad got married to another woman. My mum did not like this, she was upset and wanted to come back to England. My uncle bought her a ticket to return and I was left behind. My dad kept me there in Bangladesh for another sixteen years.
I stayed with my step mum who already had one son. I wanted to attend the local school and study. Instead I was used. She put me to herd the sheep, grow vegetables, run errands to the town and clean the house. If she said something that I did not understand, she beat me up. She thought she had the right to do this. She told me if I did not listen to her she would not let me into the house and I would get no food. She wanted me to work for her all day instead of getting an education. She enslaved me. My passport was taken. I had nothing, not even clothes of my own. It was a hard life.
A Bengali man who was visiting from Nottingham, and who knew my mum, heard about me, how I was struggling. He told me, ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to help you and you are going to go back to England.’ He went to see my mum in Manchester and told her my story. She was very worried but he said he would bring me back. The immigration authorities wanted a DNA test, so my mum gave a sample in Manchester and I went to the immigration centre in Dhaka and gave blood. Two months later, I got a new passport and some people bought me a ticket home.
When I returned to England in 1997, I was twenty-two. My dad was living in Manchester Rd on the Isle of Dogs. I could no longer write or speak English. It was a hard to get a job, but I got one in an Indian restaurant in Guildford. I worked two shifts each day as a kitchen porter, washing up and chopping vegetables. The lunchtime shift was from ten until two and nighttime from five until half past eleven. They wanted me working there all day for twelve or thirteen hours at £2 an hour. I can cook – curried rice and biryani – many things. But they did not want to teach me to be a chef or second chef, they only wanted me to do portering. For a six day week, they paid me £80 though they did not want to give the money. It was hard. I would prefer a council cleaning job where I can earn the right pay for the hours. I have done restaurant work and cleaning, and I am prepared to try anything. I have skills.
My step mum came to live with my dad on the Isle of Dogs and she said, ‘I don’t like him to come here.’ So my dad told me, ‘I don’t have a choice, son. I am old and I going to die soon. Look after yourself.’ I rented a room in Bow Rd for £50 a week and I joined the Tower Hamlets housing register and for fourteen years I was on the housing list. After that, they struck my name off the list. I don’t know why. I went to their office in Chrisp St Market to ask and they told me I was cancelled. It was a long time waiting and now my dad has passed away.
Since February, I have been sleeping under a bridge in Wapping. Crisis sent me to a night shelter in Hackney but I was scared to stay there because the single beds were too close together, three or four in a very small room. I went to Isle of Dogs Law Centre and asked. I said, ‘I don’t know what to do, I need your help. I’m homeless, I don’t know how I’m going to find a place to stay.’ They made an application for me and told me to take it to the council and say, ‘I’m homeless.’
The council housing officer asked me, ‘What’s happening?’ I said ‘I’ve been in Tower Hamlets quite a long time but I have got no address.’ She said, ‘You’ve got no priority. If you’re ill or you’ve got family, it would be different.’
I want to have a life like other people have, a social life. I want a normal life where I can work, have a home and be safe. I want to look after myself and other people. I want peace and quiet. But I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s very hard.’
Peter Riley outside Casson House off Brick Lane where he grew up
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At The Charterhouse
Tickets are available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields on Saturday 25th May
Brick buildings of 1531 in Preacher’s Court with the Barbican beyond
Desirous of an excuse to view the magnificence of the Charterhouse, I made a call upon my friend Brother Hilary Haydon one sunny afternoon, using the excuse of undertaking a photoessay, and these pictures – interspersed with lantern slides from the Bishopsgate Institute of the same subject a century ago – are the result.
Hilary is also enamoured by the atmosphere of repose conjured by the ancient buildings and lush gardens at the Charterhouse. “I must say, it is very pleasant to relax here and leave those fellows over in the City doing all that stressful hard work,” he confessed to me, now happily retired and enjoying the peace and quiet, after a long career as a Barrister in the Square Mile.
Carved details of the Gatehouse and the Physician’s House, 1716
Gateway of c1400 with Physician’s House built above in 1716
Cloisters in Preacher’s Court
The Preacher’s House built in the eighteen-twenties
Old pump in Preacher’s Court
Tudor chimneys in Preacher’s Court
The Great Staircase, erected in early seventeenth century and destroyed in 1941
Wash House Court
Passageway into Wash House Court
Master’s Court built in 1546
Great Hall built by Thomas Howard in 1571 while under house arrest here for plotting with Mary Queen of Scots to depose Elizabeth I
Portrait of Thomas Sutton in the Great Hall with Thomas Fenner below
Portrait of Elizabeth Salter attributed to Hogarth in the Great Hall
Chapel Cloister
Chapel Cloister
Tomb of Thomas Sutton, the founder of the Charterhouse
Thomas Sutton
The fifteenth century South Aisle of the Chapel
Brother Hilary Haydon in the North Aisle of the Chapel, added in 1614
Names of Charterhouse schoolboys etched upon the glass in the nineteenth century
Tudor brickwork upon the exterior of Wash House Court
Physician’s House built in 1716
Entrance to the Charterhouse viewed through the former Priory Gate
Knocker upon the main gate
Archive images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
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At The Fan Museum
Tickets are available for The Gentle Author’s Tour of Spitalfields on Saturday 25th May
The Fan Museum in Greenwich is the brainchild of Helene Alexander who has devoted her life with an heroic passion to assembling the world’s greatest collection of fans – which currently stands at over five thousand, dating from the eleventh century to the present day.
In doing so, Mrs Alexander has demanded a reassessment of these fascinating objects that were once dismissed by historians as mere feminine frippery but are now rightly recognised as windows into the societies in which they were made and used, and upon the changing position of women through time.
Folding fan with bone monture & woodblock printed leaf commemorating the Restoration of Charles II. English, c. 1660 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan (opens two ways) with ivory monture. Each stick is affixed to a painted palmette. European (probably French), c. 1670s (Helene Alexander Collection)
Ivory brisé fan painted with curious depictions of European figures. Chinese for export, c. 1700(Helene Alexander Collection)
Ivory brisé fan painted in the style of Hondecoeter. Dutch, c. 1700 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with bone monture. The printed & hand-coloured leaf has a mask motif with peepholes. English, c. 1730
Folding fan with ivory monture, the guards with silver piqué work. The leaf is painted on the obverse with vignettes themed around the life cycle of one man. European (possibly German) c. 1730/40 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with ivory monture & painted leaf. English, c. 1740s (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with ivory monture & painted leaf, showing Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens. English, c. 1750s
Folding fan with wooden monture & printed leaf, showing couples promenading. French, c. 1795-1800 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with gilt mother of pearl monture & painted leaf, signed ‘E. Parmentier. ’ French, c. 1860s
‘Landscape in Martinique’, design for a fan by Paul Gauguin. Watercolour & pastel on paper. French, c. 1887
Folding fan with blonde tortoiseshell monture, one guard set with guioché enamelling, silver & gold work by Fabergé. Fine Brussels lace leaf. French/Russian, c. 1880s (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with smoked mother of pearl monture, the leaf painted by Walter Sickert with a music hall scene showing Little Dot Hetherington at the Old Bedford Theatre. English, c. 1890
Folding fan with tortoiseshell monture carved to resemble sunrays. Canepin leaf studded with rose diamonds & rock crystal, & painted with a female figure & putti amidst clouds, signed ‘G. Lasellaz ’92’. French, c. 1892 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with horn monture & painted leaf, signed ‘Luc. F.’ French, c. 1900
Folding fan with ivory & mother of pearl monture, the painted leaf, signed (Maurice) ‘Leloir.’ French, c. 1900 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with mother of pearl monture & painted leaf, signed ‘Billotey.’ French, c. 1905 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Horn brisé fan with design of brambles & insets of mother of pearl. French, c.1905 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with Art Nouveau style tinted mother of pearl monture & painted leaf, signed ‘G. Darcey.’ French, c. 1905 (Helene Alexander Collection)
Folding fan with tortoiseshell monture & feather ‘marquetry’ leaf. French, c. 1920
Visit The Fan Museum, 12 Crooms Hill, Greenwich, SE10 8ER
