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The Gentle Author’s Dead Pubs Crawl

November 2, 2018
by the gentle author

As the darkness closes in, it delights me to go on a dead pubs crawl around Spitalfields and beyond, paying my respects at former hostelries and listening for the clinking glasses of the phantom regulars. In recent years, The Well & Bucket and The Crown & Shuttle have returned to vibrant life, convincing resurrections long after I had given up hope – which permits me to believe there may still be the possibility of life after death for other lost pubs in the neighbourhood.

The Ship & Blue Ball, Boundary Passage, where they planned the Great Train Robbery (1851-1994)

The Frying Pan, Brick Lane (1805-1991)

The Crown, Bethnal Green Rd (1869-1922)

The Britannia, Chilton St (1861-2000)

The Laurel Tree, Brick Lane (1813-1983)

The Well & Bucket, Bethnal Green Rd (1861-1989 & resurrected in 2013)

The Dolphin, Redchurch St (1835-2002)

The Jolly Butchers, Brick Lane (1839- 1987)

Seven Stars, Brick Lane (1711-2002)

The Duke of Wellington, Toynbee St (1851-2018)

The Queen’s Head, Fashion St (1825-1936)

The Crown & Shuttle, Shoreditch High St (1861-2001 & resurrected in 2013)

Sir Robert Peel, Bishopsgate Without (1871-1957)

The Queen Victoria, Barnet Grove (1856-1993)

The Grave Maurice, Whitechapel Rd (1723-2010)

The Lord Napier, Whitechapel Rd (1878-1983)

The Black Bull, Whitechapel Rd (1812-2006)

The Ship, Bethnal Green Rd (1856-2000)

The Artichoke, Jubilee St (1847-2001)

Lord Nelson, Buross St (1869-2005)

Mackworth Arms, Commercial Rd (1858-1984)

Kinder Arms, Little Turner St (1839-1904)

The Crown & Dolphin, Cannon St Row (1851-2002)

The Old Rose, The Highway (1839-2007)

The Whitechapel Bell Foundry was a coaching inn called The Artichoke prior to 1738

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The Alphabet of Lost Pubs A-C

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The Alphabet of Lost Pubs S-T

The Alphabet of Lost Pubs U-Z

Norah Smyth, Suffragette Photographer

November 1, 2018
by Carla Mitchell

Carla Mitchell, Director of Four Corners, celebrates the photography of Norah Smyth as her work returns to the East End for the first time in over a century for a new exhibition

Sylvia Pankhurt paints ‘Votes For Women’ at 198 Bow Rd, 1912

At dawn on 13th July 1912, two women crouched by the wall of Nuneham House, Oxfordshire. They had arrived up the Thames by hired rowboat, aiming to set fire to the eighteenth century home of the vehemently anti-suffrage Lewis ‘Lulu’ Harcourt MP. Helen Craggs was arrested but the other woman escaped over the fields, her identity unknown. Years later, in the early sixties, Norah Smyth confided the truth to her nephew, former diplomat Kenneth Isolani Smyth. He expressed surprise, knowing her love of old paintings and antiques, but Smyth explained that she knew the east wing of the house was uninhabited. It was the only violent action that she undertook as a suffragette.

It is to this remarkable woman that we owe a debt of gratitude for her striking photographs of East London suffragettes, documenting an extraordinary moment in women’s social history. A unique exhibition of her work opens at Four Corners gallery this week, bringing these images back to East End for the first time in a hundred years, generously loaned from the International Institute for Social History in Amsterdam.

Born Norah Veronica Lyle-Smyth in 1874, she was the daughter of a wealthy Liverpool grain merchant, one of eleven children. Her father was kind but overbearing and she did not leave home until after his death. Instead, she developed a talent as a sculptor, carving panels behind the altar in her local church and cutting her own gravestone, with the date left blank.  She sometimes smoked a clay pipe and owned a pet monkey called Gnome. In 1911, she moved to London and joined Edith Craig’s Pioneer Players, known for its plays on the subject of women’s suffrage.  She also worked as an unpaid chauffeur to Emmeline Pankhurst, the leading figure of the Women’s Social and Political Union. Here she met her daughter Sylvia Pankhurst and they shared a residence in Notting Hill, beginning a friendship that lasted over ten years.

In 1912 Pankhurst, Smyth and supporters set up an East London branch of the WSPU at a baker’s shop at 198 Bow Rd.  Smyth took evocative photographs of Pankhurst painting ‘Votes for Women’ in gold letters on the shopfront. Another early photograph shows Pankhurst recovering from hunger strike at the house of Mr & Mrs Payne at 28 Ford Rd in Bow. Pankhurst was regularly imprisoned under the ‘Cat & Mouse’ Act, which allowed the authorities to release hunger striking suffragettes from prison and then re-arrest them once their health had recovered.

The suffragettes found a ready activism among East End women, which had existed since the Bryant & May Match Women’s strike of 1888. They supported George Lansbury, MP for Poplar & Bow, who staged a by-election on women’s suffrage and lost his seat as a result. Pankhurst argued that working-class women had the most to gain from winning the vote as part of the struggle for social reform. Alongside the vote, members called for better housing and working conditions and equal pay. This growing East End movement led to a break with the mainstream WSPU in 1914 and the formation of the East London Federation of the Suffragettes (ELFS).

Smyth’s photographs date from then, suggesting an active decision to promote the work of the new organisation. In particular she used her photographs for the ELFS weekly newspaper, The Woman’s Dreadnought.  The name was ‘symbolic of the fact that the women who are fighting for freedom must fear nothing’. Newspapers were publishing photography for the first time and Smyth exploited this to great effect. She also used the hugely popular picture postcard format to disseminate her photographs, sent out through frequent daily postal services.

Pre-First World War photographs show the Women’s May Day procession from East India Dock Gates to Victoria Park, ‘Self Denial’ fundraising week, the weekly stall in Roman Rd and the deputation of East End women to meet Prime Minster Asquith in June 1914.  An active ELFS organiser, Smyth was evidently self-effacing and rarely took part in public speeches or debates. Sylvia Pankhurst describes her preparing a march on a rainy day:

‘ “Of course we shall march!” she said, and bustled about fitting up banners, impetuously lifting and wrenching; doing more than any half-dozen men in the crowd.. In grey-black costume, short-skirted for those days, a small, black shovel hat surmounting her long pale face and tight-drawn hair, she dashed about, a slight, thick-shouldered, thin-legged figure, with a trace of elegance.’

The ELFS’ headquarters was the Women’s Hall at 400 Old Ford Rd, also home to Smyth, Pankhurst, and Mr & Mrs Payne. Here they hosted meetings, Sunday socials and a Junior Suffragette’s Club for girls aged fourteen to eighteen. Evidently the roof was the place for socialising in warm weather. Several photographs also show the Lansbury family helping to hoist the Suffragette flag and celebrate Sylvia’s thirty-second birthday.

The outbreak of war in August 1914 threw the East End into turmoil. Factories closed, unemployment and the inflation of food prices caused widespread distress. Desperate women called at The Women’s Hall, begging for help. The ELFS responded by setting up cheap restaurants, free mother and baby clinics, nurseries and a cooperative toy factory with crèche attached. 400 Old Ford Rd became a milk distribution centre for hungry babies, followed by others in Bow, Poplar, Canning Town and Stepney. A disused pub, the ‘Gunmaker’s Arms’, was reopened as a nursery, ‘The Mother’s Arms’, with an innovative Montessori school. Deeply affected by the poverty in East London that was made even worse by the war, Smyth spent her entire inheritance supporting this work.

Smyth’s photographs can be seen within a tradition of Victorian street photography that portrays East London through the eyes of outsiders. Crowds of children in Bow streets stare at the photographer with curious glances, reminiscent of images by John Thomson or John Galt. Yet other depictions differ, girls and boys in the cost price restaurant look at the photographer with an assertive immediacy. Groups of working mothers and their babies pose informally for the camera.  Even the shockingly malnourished infant held by Nurse Hebbes or the sleeping child left alone at home are shown without drama or spectacle. Smyth’s intimate, familiar photographs reveal an everyday world of which she was a participant rather than an external observer.

The photographs vary in technique. Some are snapshots, taken perhaps with the Kodak Brownie camera available since 1900. Others suggest the use of older technology: faces blurred by long exposures impart a different quality of time and movement.  There are numerous photographs of mothers and children, reflecting their importance within the ELFS’ activities. ‘The hope of the world lies with the children. Help to save the babies’, the Dreadnought’s July 31st 1915 edition headline read. During the war the East London suffragettes sustained their collective spirit, organising children’s festivals such as the New Year’s Pageant at Bow Baths Hall in January 1916.  Smyth’s photograph shows a procession of young suffragettes dressed to personify Peace, Liberty and the Spirit of Spring, led by children wearing ‘red caps of liberty’.

In Spring 1916 a million soldiers were conscripted, many of whom did not have the right to vote. This changed the suffrage debate, and the ELFS began calling for universal adult suffrage and campaigning openly against the war.  Smyth’s photographs cease around this time. It is possible that later images did not survive.  Equally, it seems likely that the efforts of keeping the cost price restaurants, Mother’s Arms, Toy Factory and baby clinics going alongside the growing anti-war campaign meant that photography was put aside.

By the time some women finally gained the vote in 1918, the Russian Revolution had changed everything. The East London suffragettes were calling for international Socialism and trying to keep their vision of East End militancy alive. Yet political debates alongside financial hardships led to a dispersal of its members and the closure of the Dreadnought in 1924.

Smyth left for Florence where she worked for the British Institute, then joined the Times of Malta. In 1945, she went to live with her sister Una in County Donegal, leading a quiet rural life until her death in 1963. Her papers are lost, so we do not know whether she continued to take photographs later in life. One picture taken a few years before her death shows her with a box brownie camera.

The East End suffragettes fought not only for the right to vote but also for a radical transformation of British society. Through self-organised, community action across East London, working class women battled for social justice during the hardships of the First World War.  Norah Smyth’s remarkable photography celebrates their history.

Norah Smyth in uniform as Emmeline Pankhurst’s chauffeur, 1913

‘Enjoying our Christmas number’- suffragettes selling The Woman’s Dreadnought, 1915

ELFS stall on Roman Rd, announcing a forthcoming demonstration in Canning Town, July 1914

‘The home they fought for’ – children come to play with Sylvia Pankhurst’s dog Jim  c 1915

Hoisting the flag at 400 Old Ford Rd for Sylvia Pankhurst’s 32nd birthday. She is pointing at the camera. The little boy is the grandson of George Lansbury, MP for Poplar & Bow.  May 1914

Gathering on the roof of 400 Old Ford Rd, 1914

Sylvia Pankhurst recovering from hunger strike at the home of Mr & Mrs Payne at 28 Ford Rd, Bow.  1913

ELFS demonstration on Women’s May day on the Old Ford Road, Bow, 30th May 1915

Outside the war relief clinic at 53 St Leonard’s St, Bromley

Mrs Schlette holding a cat outside the war relief clinic at 53 St Leonard’s St, Bromley

Nurse Hebbes with one of her ‘war sufferers’ at the Mother’s Arms, c1915

Children eating at the cost price restaurant at 20 Railway St, Poplar, 1914

Procession of children at New Year’s Pageant., January 1916

‘With some of our Poplar babies in the garden at 20 Railway St’  Mrs Schlette is on the left. 1914

Ranwell St, Bow, c 1914

Children in Bow, c 1914

Children in Bow. c 1914

Photographs courtesy International Institute for Social History

EAST END SUFFRAGETTES: THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF NORAH SMYTH runs Tuesday-Saturday at Four Corners, Roman Rd, E2 0QN until 9th February

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The Curse Of Vicky’s Ticker

October 31, 2018
by Roger Clarke

In these pages in 2012, Roger Clarke first revealed the intriguing tale of a gold pocket watch presented by Queen Victoria to an eleven-year-old Shoreditch clairvoyant. The watch – known as Vicky’s Ticker – went missing in 1962 when it was stolen from the London College of Psychic Studies, yet since Roger wrote his story for Spitalfields Life it has inexplicably reappeared.

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Once I held it in my hand, I was aware of the weight of it. I was standing in a small downstairs room at Bonhams in South Kensington holding a Victorian gold pocket watch. Yet the weight I felt was not that of the precious metal or the intricate mechanics of its system, but of the significance of those whose hands through which the watch had passed: Queen Victoria, two celebrated psychics, a newspaper editor who went down in the Titanic and the thief who stole it fifty years ago.

Here is the entry in Bonham’s catalogue:

LOT 19: AN 18K GOLD KEY WIND OPEN FACE POCKET WATCH, Circa 1840 (£500–700)

Two engraved inscriptions: ‘Presented by Her Majesty to Miss Georgiana Eagle for her Meritorious & Extraordinary Clairvoyance produced at Osborn House, Isle of Wight, July 15th 1846′ and ‘Presented by W.T Stead to Mrs Etta Wriedt through whose mediumship Queen Victoria’s direct voice was heard in London in July 1911.’

I first came across the name of Georgiana Eagle, Wizard Queen & Mesmerist, while researching my book A Natural History of Ghosts – and as a Shoreditch resident myself – I was naturally intrigued by her. Dalston was a Victorian nexus of young female psychics, including the infamous Florence Cook in the eighteen seventies, and there was a very famous Dalston spiritualist group at the time many of whose members worked on the railways – two recently-built spurs (now the overground) had opened up the area and were instrumental  in making Dalston popular for séances.  It was a new territory, opening new doors into the other world. However it seems an even younger East London psychic proceeded Miss Cook by several decades amongst the furniture-making factories and leather-working rooms of Shoreditch.

Georgiana Eagle was born on November 28th 1834 and baptised at St Leonard’s Church. Her grandfather owned a pub in the parish and the family were of Huguenot descent. She lived with her father Barnardo Eagle in Holywell Place. He was a professional stage magician and the family led a nomadic existence as travelling players. In 1839, he was describing himself as ‘The Royal Wizard of the South’ and in the Birmingham Journal of November 23rd of that year claimed he had performed for ‘His late Majesty and Queen Adelaide, Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, Her Majesty Queen Victoria, The Duchess of Kent and numbers of the nobility.’

After the death of her mother, eight-year-old Georgiana stayed with her father while the rest of her siblings were packed off to live with their grandparents in 36 Coleman St. She was a willing participant in her father’s stage act of ‘Hundred feats of mighty magic’. He was a sceptic who revealed deception and his show, The Mysterious Lady, which was devoted to exposing the clairvoyance claims of mesmerists – proved immensely popular. Little Georgiana was the star and she performed for Queen Victoria at Osborne House when Prince Albert was still alive, receiving the gift of the gold watch from the monarch. Victoria’s journals show she gave similar watches to other children of Georgiana’s age and I believe Georgiana had it engraved after that event at Osborne House in 1846. This is the ill-fated watch that was subsequently stolen from the College of Psychic Studies in September 1962.

One morning last year, I received a call from a relative in the antiques business who was monitoring sales of objects connected to the Isle of Wight where we both grew up. He had learnt about the sale of a watch. I went in one day in January for a viewing and sat in a small windowless, fortified room as a young man brought it in. There was absolutely no doubt about it. This was Vicky’s Ticker – the watch given to Georgiana by Queen Victoria which has not been seen or heard of since 1962. It had been discovered among the effects of a jeweller from Manchester at his decease by his relatives, who had no idea of its tainted provenance.

There is a contemporary mention of Victoria’s gift of the watch to Georgiana in the Northampton Mercury in 1849. ‘On Monday last, a theatre suddenly upreared its tawdry head in the market square, decorated with pictures representing Miss Georgiana Eagle in trunk hose and flesh tights, in the act of receiving a splendid gold watch from Her Majesty Queen Victoria.’

A remarkable thing happened. In 1850, Barnardo Eagle advertised private clairvoyance sessions  ‘to the nobility and gentry’ in Brighton. At a meeting in Edinburgh in November 1852, around sixty people were invited to experience Georgiana’s powers of mediumship and mesmerism. Whether this conversion was heartfelt or genuine, we will probably never know.  It could have been simply that Barnardo was commercially savvy and he saw the wind was blowing in favour of psychics. Yet his journey from sceptic to believer is the reason that the watch is so precious to the College of Psychic Studies.

Those who were shocked by Barnardo’s apparent betrayal of his rational beliefs blamed him for dragging his eighteen year-old daughter along with him. It did not go well for either of them. By 1853, he had abandoned the profession and reverted to the family occupation, buying the licence to the Brown Bear Tavern near the British Museum. His infant daughter Rosabel died and was buried in a public grave, indicating the family’s reduced state at this time. Yet by 1855 they were back on the road, offering clairvoyance once again.

There was a late resurgence in their fame. The hiatus appears to have restored their public reputation now belief in psychic phenomena had became widespread. Then tragedy struck when Barnardo died onstage during his act. A few weeks later – while her father was barely cold in the ground – Georgiana married a Drury Lane scene-painter.  She was now performing as Madame Card, Wizard Queen and Mesmerist and living happily with her husband in Cheltenham, until he was committed to a lunatic asylum in Sussex where he died seven months later.

She married a music professor from Islington and they toured together. He accompanying her act with musical numbers and they were reviewed quite favourably by the Evening Standard. Georgiana was by now an accomplished hypnotist and ‘performed with a dexterity that is scarcely surpassed by any other male conjurer’ Unfortunately, the music professor – a volatile character who got in trouble with the law over his temper – also died young and Georgiana was widowed for a second time by the age of forty-seven. She married a draper twenty-five years her junior, and eventually died in Muswell Hill of ‘senile decay’ in March 1911.

Within months of Georgiana’s death, the watch fell into the hands of the newspaper editor W.T. Stead who gave it to Etta Wriedt, a medium who used it to channel the spirit and voice of Queen Victoria in London in July 1911. When Stead drowned on the Titanic, Wriedt presented the watch to the London College of Psychic Studies.

The colourful history of this little timepiece might tempt the credulous to believe it has a curse attached to it – though why that should be, I have no explanation. I attended the ceremony marking the return of the watch at the College of Psychic Studies and afterwards talked with a throng of interested parties.  ‘We think you were guided,’ suggested a couple of mediums but naturally I could not say.  Yet it is very strange that I should write on the subject for Spitalfields Life and then find it.

I do not feel my business with Georgiana Eagle has quite finished yet.

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Georgiana Eagle, Wizard Queen & Mersmerist of Shoreditch

Inscription of July 1846

Inscription of July 1911

St Leonard’s Church where Georgiana Eagle, Wizard Queen & Clairvoyant Mesmerist, was baptised

Dalston became a nexus for female psychics in the eighteen seventies due to improved transport links

Barnardo Eagle, the Royal Wizard of the South (Courtesy of Senate House Library)

Advertisement for a performance by Barnardo and Georgiana Eagle in Plymouth

Georgiana Eagle commonly performed under the stage name of Madame Gilliland Card (Poster courtesy of British Museum)

Etta Wriedt used Vicky’s Ticker to channel the spirit and voice of Queen Victoria in London in 1911

Journal of Spiritualism, Psychical, Occult & Mystical Research (Courtesy London College of Psychic Studies)

Roger Clarke wishes to thank Vivienne Roberts, College Curator & Archivist at the London College of Psychic Studies for her research

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Upon The Nature Of Gothic Horrors

October 30, 2018
by the gentle author

I believe I was born with a medieval imagination. It is the only way I can explain the explicit gothic terrors of my childhood. Even lying in my cradle, I recall observing the monstrous face that emerged from the ceiling lampshade once the light was turned out. This all-seeing creature, peering at me from above, grew more pervasive as years passed, occupying the shadows at the edges of my vision and assuming more concrete manifestations. An unexpected sound in my dark room revealed its presence, causing me to lie still and hold my breath, as if through my petrified silence I could avert the attention of the devil leaning over my bedside.

When I first became aware of gargoyles carved upon churches and illustrated in manuscripts, I recognised these creatures from my own imagination and I made my own paintings of these scaled, clawed, horned, winged beasts, which were as familiar as animals in the natural world. I interpreted any indeterminate sound or movement from the dark as indicating their physical presence in my temporal existence. Consequently, darkness, shadow and gloom were an inescapable source of fear to me on account of the nameless threat they harboured, always lurking there just waiting to pounce. At this time of year, when the dusk glimmers earlier in the day, their power grew as if these creatures of the shades might overrun the earth.

Nothing could have persuaded me to walk into a dark house alone. One teenage summer, I looked after an old cottage while the residents were on their holiday and, returning after work at night, I had to walk a long road that led through a deep wood without street lighting. As I wheeled my bicycle up the steep hill among the trees in dread, it seemed to me they were alive with monsters and any movement of the branches confirmed their teeming presence.

Yet I discovered a love of ghost stories and collected anthologies of tales of the supernatural, which I accepted as real because they extended and explained the uncanny notions of my own imagination. In an attempt to normalise my fears, I made a study of mythical beasts and learnt to distinguish between a griffin and a wyvern. When I discovered the paintings of Hieronymous Bosch and Pieter Breughel, I grew fascinated and strangely reassured that they had seen the apocalyptic visions which haunted the recesses of my own mind.

I made the mistake of going to see Ridley Scott’s The Alien alone and experienced ninety minutes transfixed with terror, unable to move, because – unlike the characters in the drama – I was already familiar with this beast who had been pursuing me my whole life. In retrospect, I recognise the equivocal nature of this experience, because I also sought a screening of The Exorcist with similar results. Perhaps I sought consolation in having my worst fears realised, even if I regretted it too?

Once, walking through a side street at night, I peered into the window of an empty printshop and leapt six feet back when a dark figure rose up from among the machines to confront my face in the glass. My companions found this reaction to my own shadow highly amusing and it was a troubling reminder of the degree to which I was at the mercy of these irrational fears even as an adult.

I woke in the night sometimes, shaking with fear and convinced there were venomous snakes in the foot of my bed. The only solution was to unmake the bed and remake it again before I could climb back in. Imagine my surprise when I visited the aquarium in Berlin and decided to explore the upper floor where I was confronted with glass cases of live tropical snakes. Even as I sprinted away down the street, I felt the need to keep a distance from cars in case a serpent might be lurking underneath. This particular terror reached its nadir when I was walking in the Pyrenees, and stood to bathe beneath a waterfall and cool myself on a hot day. A green snake of several feet in length fell wriggling from above, hit me, bounced off into the pool and swam away, leaving me frozen in shock.

Somewhere all these fears dissolved. I do not know where or when exactly. I no longer read ghost stories or watch horror films and equally I do not seek out dark places or reptile houses. None of these things have purchase upon my psyche or even hold any interest anymore. Those scaly beasts have retreated from the world. For me, the shadows are not inhabited by the spectral and the unfathomable darkness is empty.

Bereavement entered my life and it dispelled these fears which haunted me for so long. My mother and father who used to turn out the light and leave me to sleep in my childhood room at the mercy of medieval phantasms are gone, and I have to live in the knowledge that they can no longer protect me. Once I witnessed the moment of death with my own eyes, it held no mystery for me. The demons became redundant and fled. Now they have lost their power over me, I miss them – or rather, perhaps, I miss the person I used to be – yet I am happy to live a life without supernatural agency.

Fourteenth century carvings from St Katherine’s Chapel, Limehouse

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Suresh Singh’s Spitalfields

October 29, 2018
by the gentle author

When Suresh Singh was a student at City & East London College in 1979, he was given a project for General Studies O Level to record his neighbourhood. So he set out with his camera from his home at 38 Princelet St and took these photographs of the streets of Spitalfields. They are published here for the first time today and are now in the collection at Bishopsgate Insitute.

Suresh will be in conversation with Stefan Dickers talking about his book A MODEST LIVING, MEMOIRS OF A COCKNEY SIKH at the Write Idea Festival at the Whitechapel Idea Store on Saturday November 17th at 1pm. Click here to book a free ticket

Christ Church from Wilkes St

Spitalfields Market seen from Christ Church

Looking towards the City from the rooftop of a Hanbury St factory

Children playing cricket in Puma Court

Mr Sova, proprietor of Sova Fabrics on Brick Lane

Brick Lane

Shed on Brick Lane

Shoe shop on Cheshire St

Cheshire St

Stamp and coin dealer in Cheshire St

Boy carrying home the shopping on Brick Lane

Shops on Hanbury St

Truman Brewery seen from Grimbsy St

Woman on Brick Lane

Her shoes

Down and out on the steps of the Rectory, Christ Church

Homeless men sitting outside Christ Church – this area has recently been fenced off

In Fashion St

Naz Cinema, Brick Lane

Family walking from Shoreditch Station into Brick Lane

Clifton Sweetmart, Brick Lane

Former Central Foundation School for Girls, Spital Sq, now Galvin restaurant

Inside the former Central Foundation School for Girls, Spital Sq

Abandoned books at Central Foundation School for Girls

There was a constant police presence on Brick Lane due to the race riots

Crowds leaving the mosque on Brick Lane

Sign in Fournier St

Sign in Fournier St

Christ Church prior to restoration, without balconies

Christ Church from the roofs of Hanbury St

Photographs copyright © Suresh Singh

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Click here to order a signed copy of A MODEST LIVING for £20

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Luke Clennell’s Dance Of Death

October 28, 2018
by the gentle author

More than fifteen years have passed since my father died at this time of year and thoughts of mortality always enter my mind as the nights begin to draw in, as I prepare to face the spiritual challenge of another long dark winter ahead. So Luke Clennell’s splendid DANCE OF DEATH engravings inspired by Hans Holbein suit my mordant sensibility at this season.

First published in 1825 as the work of ‘Mr Bewick’, they have recently been identified for me as the work of Thomas Bewick’s apprentice Luke Clennell by historian Dr Ruth Richardson.

The Desolation

The Queen

The Pope

The Cardinal

The Elector

The Canon

The Canoness

The Priest

The Mendicant Friar

The Councillor or Magistrate

The Astrologer

The Physician

The Merchant


The Wreck


The Swiss Soldier


The Charioteer or Waggoner

The Porter

The Fool

The Miser

The Gamesters


The Drunkards


The Beggar


The Thief


The Newly Married Pair


The Husband

The Wife


The Child


The Old Man

The Old Woman

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Piggott Bros & Co Of Bishopsgate

October 27, 2018
by the gentle author

Before banks and financial industries took over, Bishopsgate was filled with noble trades like  J W Stutter Ltd, Cutlers, James Ince & Sons, Umbrella Makers and Piggott Bros, Tent Makers – whose wares are illustrated below, selected from an eighteen-eighties catalogue held in the Bishopsgate Institute. If this should whet your appetite for hiring a marquee, Piggotts are still in business, operating these days from a factory in Whitham.

Gentlemen, I have much pleasure in bearing testimony to the satisfaction given to my family and friends by the manner in which you carried out your contract, and also to the obliging manner with which your employees carried out their duties and our wishes. Considering the gale during the week in which the ball room was erected, the workmanship  was most creditable to all concerned. Your &c, B Proctor (Glengariffe, Nightingale Lane, SW)

The Round Tent – 30ft circumference, 10 shillings for one day

The Square Tent – 6ft by 6ft, ten shillings for one day

The Bathing Tent – 6ft across with a socketed pole, seven shillings for one day

The Bell Tent – for one day six shillings & eightpence

The Gipsy Tent 9ft by 7ft, six shillings and eightpence for one day

The Boating or Canoeing Tent 9ft by 7ft, six shillings and eightpence for one day

The Mildmay Tent 18ft by 9ft with lining, bedroom partition and awning, forty shillings for one day

Tarpaulins – 24ft by 18ft, two shillings and sixpence per week

Rick Cloth – 12 by 10 yards for 40 loads, two shillings and fivepence for a fortnight

The Banqueting Marquee

The Marquee fitted for the Church or Mission

Wimbledon Camp – The Wimbledon Prize Meeting of the National Rifle Association

The Royal Agricultural Show at Bristol – Dear Sirs,  I have much pleasure in testifying to the excellence of the temporary buildings erected by you for our Tottenham, Edmonton and Enfield Industrial Exhibition, held in October last. The light and ventilation were good, and the buildings warm and waterproof, and well adapted for the purpose. Yours Truly, J Tanner, Architect (24 Finsbury Circus)

The Temporary Ball Room – Dear Sirs, Your Ball Room gave me every satisfaction, and I should have great pleasure in recommending you, should you ever care to apply to me. Yours faithfully A. Cantor (Trewsbury, Cirencester)

The Marquee for Wedding, Ball or Evening Party – In sending you my cheque for the contract price for the ballroom, I think is only due to state to you that the temporary room was a great success and my guests one and all expressed great admiration for the excellence of the arrangements and the perfection of the dance floor. It is only fair that I should state at the same time that your men carried out the arrangements well and with promptitude and in a quiet and orderly way, and I am quite satisfied with all they did. Yours faithfully, E Canes Mason (Reigate, Surrey)

The Marquee for Laying a Foundation Stone

Lord Mayor’s Day, 1881

Lord Mayor’s Day, 1881 Lothbury

Piggott’s Orchestra

Piggots of Bishopsgate in the nineteenth century

Piggots of Bishopsgate in the twentith century

Images courtesy of Bishopsgate Institute

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At Dirty Dick’s

J.W.Stutter, Cutlers Ltd

At James Ince & Sons, Umbrella Makers

Vivian Betts of Bishopsgate

Charles Goss’ Bishopsgate Photographs

The Romance of Old Bishopsgate

Tallis’ Street Views of Bishopsgate 1838