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Chris Kelly’s Cable St Gardeners

May 23, 2025
by the gentle author

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tour this Saturday

 

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In September 2003, photographer Chris Kelly was invited to the open day of Cable Street Community Gardens and the result was a year-long project which culminated in an exhibition and a book. Fifty-two plot holders took part, aged from seven to eighty and originating from a dozen different countries, yet all unified by a love of gardening and the need for a haven where they could cultivate flowers, grow vegetables, chat to neighbours or enjoy solitude. Today, it is my delight to publish a selection of Chris Kelly’s beautiful portraits of the Cable St Gardeners. “Some of the old faces are no longer there,” Chris told me,“but the gardens thrive, new people have joined and it is still a magical place.”

Bill Wren – I was born in Wapping and I moved to Shadwell nine years ago. I’ve had the plot for about fifteen years. We never had a garden when I was young. The nearest I came to gardening was picking hops in Kent. Later I had a friend in Burgess Hill and I used to grow things in her garden. That’s where the greenhouse came from, I put it on the roof of the car and brought it up from Sussex. I’ve built a shed here and a pond. There are plenty of frogs and newts, and I’ve planted a bank next to the road. It’s a wildlife haven now.

Jane Sill – I was born in Liverpool. My grandfather had an allotment in County Durham and my father was a very good gardener. I helped with weeding and cultivated sunflowers. I was living in Cable Street in the late seventies in a top floor flat with no balcony. One day I went to a community festival and Friends of the Earth were offering plots here. I was given one in 1980 and I knew straight away how important it was to establish ourselves as an organisation. We’ve had a two year waiting list since 1981. At one time I was working in a Job Centre and people used to come in and put their names down for a plot.

Mohammed Rahmat Ali Pathni – I have always been a gardener. I started on my father’s land in Bangladesh and when I came to live in Birmingham in 1978 I had a garden behind the back yard. I have lived in Wapping since 1983 and started gardening in Cable Street ten years ago. I’m enjoying myself and it helps my frozen shoulder. I taught my children to garden and my wife often works here too. Many gardeners provide food for other people and I regularly give vegetables to friends. I also write poetry which is printed in the Eurobangla News Weekly, and I am a member of a writers’ group.

Alison Cochran – I moved to Shadwell five years ago because of the allotments and I live just across the road. I noticed them when I was living in Bethnal Green. I was born in Salisbury on a hill fort. I was keen on gardening when I was a child but when I came here I hadn’t gardened for years. I knew I wanted lots of flowers, but now I also grow salad vegetables and leeks, tomatoes, carrots and radishes. The soil is wonderful, everything seems to thrive here. I’ve used Victorian bricks for the paths because I wanted my plot to be in keeping with nearby housing.

Monir Uddin – I’ve lived in the borough for twenty years and I’ve gardened here for eight or nine years. The plot was completely wild at first. I had to uproot everything and it took about two years to get the soil right. I used to grow about sixty different plants and vegetables, including huge pumpkins. I love experimenting with plants and growing them for their medicinal properties. I’m a photographer and I also wanted to produce plants to photograph. I’ve done many different types of work including weddings and portraits. I was involved in the Bollywood film industry, I’ve photographed celebrities and at one time I had a restaurant.

Agatha Athanaze – I’ve been gardening here for twelve years. I was born in Dominica and came to Tower Hamlets in 1961. I’ve done different jobs. I’ve been a machinist and a cleaner. I live in Wapping now. I had a garden in Dominica so I did have some experience. The vegetables came first – I grow cabbages, onions, spring onions, runner beans, carrots, tomatoes, rhubarb and kidney beans. I like flowers too. I’ve ordered roses from Holland and from Spalding. I just like to come here and grow things. There are two benches but I haven’t time to sit down.

John Kelly – I was born in Cork City and I wasn’t a gardener. I came to this country in 1943 to work in the construction industry and started gardening as a hobby and to feed the family. I’ve had the plot here for seventeen years. I didn’t know much but I picked it up as I went along. I’ve always grown vegetables, never flowers. I can’t spend too much time here because I have to look after my wife and I have health problems too. I hate the sight of weeds but I don’t throw them out. I leave them on the ground to let them rot and they form green manure.

Manda Helal – I’m from Hertfordshire and I’ve lived in Tower Hamlets for twenty-six years. I’ve always been keen on gardening. We had a big garden when I was a child and I was given a section of my own. I’ve had my plot here for three years. My flat in Whitechapel is small and dark, so it’s wonderful to come here. The wheels are a frame for pumpkins. Squashes and pumpkins are so versatile. I grow artichokes and rocket, garlic, kale, cabbage, cauliflower, spinach and climbing purple beans. I’ve taught pottery in the borough for years and more recently I became a compost educator for the Women’s Environmental Network.

John Stokes – I’ve been gardening at Cable Street since I retired six years ago. I asked one of the nuns in the convent across the road and she said the allotments were for local people. I had no experience but I was brought up on a farm and I found I had an instinct for gardening. I came over from Ireland fifty years ago. I worked for London Transport for thirty-six years and missed only nine days. Now I’m at the gardens almost every day in summer and twice a week in winter. I grow vegetables for myself and my cousin and an aunt.

Anna Gaudion – I was born in Guernsey. I’ve lived in Stepney for the last ten years and I work as a midwife in Peckham. I was brought up in the country and I love being outside, hearing birds and growing things. I like allotments too, even just seeing them from trains. I’ve had this plot for three years now. My shed is made from a packing case used to take an object abroad from the British Museum where I was a curator. I enjoy cultivating flowers so I planted a nature garden. I share my plot with Claire who grows vegetables. Mine is the higgledy-piggledy part.

Andy Pickin – I grew up in Finchley and we moved to Shadwell twenty years ago. We spent eight years in Huntingdon when the firm moved there but most of us came back to London. I wanted an allotment because I’d always had great fun sharing one with my dad. I’ve had the plot for fourteen years. I grew vegetables because money was tight and the first year’s crop was fantastic. Our thirteen children all liked coming here when they were young. The older ones grow their own vegetables now. My wife likes the gardens too, she knows I sometimes come here to get away from the telly or the kids arguing.

Robin & Maria Albert – Robin was in catering before becoming a gardener eight years ago. He was born in Mile End and he’s lived in London all his life. I was born in London too and brought up in Margate. My family is always trying to persuade us to move out to Kent but we like living in Bethnal Green. We grow flowers at home but we wanted somewhere separate for vegetables. The fact that everything is organic is part of the appeal. Producing your own pure food is very satisfying. We have some flowers too and a pond that attracts frogs. I can’t do so much now but I still find gardening very therapeutic.

Ray Newton – I’ve always grown things. I share this plot with Agatha. We grow about a dozen different types of vegetables. It’s all organic. We don’t use pesticides. I retired last year from teaching business studies at Tower Hamlets College. Before that I worked in industry and at one time I was manager of a betting shop. I studied for O and A levels at evening classes and then took a degree course. I became a teacher and taught for twenty-five years. My other interests are local history and football. I’m the secretary of the History of Wapping Trust and a lifelong Millwall supporter.

Will Daly – I was a founder member of the gardens. I was in a nearby pub when Jane came in with another Irish chap and they persuaded me to have a plot. I’ve been in the borough for twenty-seven years. I was born in Ireland and I made a living salmon fishing on a tributary of the Shannon. I came to this country in 1951 and did building work. One of my brothers came over too but he missed the river and went home after a while. I still go back to Ireland but only for weddings and funerals. I can’t do very much gardening now but I love the peace of it.

Raymond Hussey – This is my second year. I live in one of the flats nearby. I’m growing vegetables and learning as I go along. What I’m most proud of is the brussels. And my runner beans were unbelievable. I don’t know whether it’s the soil or me talking to them. Weeds are a problem. Sometimes I’d like to use gallons of weedkiller but we’re not allowed. So I come in and have a chat. I call them everything but weeds. I was born on one of the estates off Brick Lane. I’ve done lots of things including acting. In my last job I was a dustman but I got trapped by the lorry. I still can’t do heavy work so the plot’s a bit of a mess but it’s my little world and I love it.

Robin, Yvonne and Katie Guess – We live at the other end of Cable Street. There’s a small courtyard garden but Yvonne and I were used to growing fruit and vegetables before we lived in London. We love soft fruit, we had a huge crop last year. We grow several vegetables and Yvonne has planted a mixed flower and herb bed. Our daughter Katie likes planting and picking but not weeding. We’re both from the south-east. I’ve been in the East End since 1968 and I worked on the Isle of Dogs as a quality control chemist. Now I’m with the Music Alliance in Oxford Street dealing with composer copyright.

Carl Vella – I came to Tower Hamlets from Malta in 1950 and worked for the NHS, mostly as a fitter and stoker. I’m retired and since I took over the plot four years ago I like to come here every day. I grow mostly vegetables –  potatoes and cabbages. I’m on my own now so I give a lot of produce away to an elderly neighbour. I live in the flats nearby and there’s no garden. Coming here stops me getting fed up. I take my dog for a walk, go to the bookie’s and come here. I’d like to bring Pedro more often but he won’t stay in one place.

Sister Elizabeth O’Connor – Our Order has been part of the local community since 1859 and I came to the convent in 1949. After the houses here were demolished the site became a dumping ground until Friends of the Earth initiated the gardens project. When I retired from teaching in 1991, I started gardening here. All the sisters appreciate home grown vegetables and having fresh flowers for the chapel. As a child in County Clare I enjoyed helping my father in our kitchen garden. Apart from the practical use, the gardens are a great place for breaking down barriers and it’s especially good that women can feel safe here on their own.

Graham Kenlin – I was born in Bermuda. My father was a navy chef and had a land-based job working for an admiral. We came back to England when I was four and I grew up in Hackney. I’ve lived in Wapping for thirty-eight years and I’ve had a plot here for about fifteen years. My family have always had allotments. It’s very relaxing but I’m a lazy gardener. I’m an archaeologist and I work abroad sometimes so the plot gets neglected. I’ve had the odd good year but normally I do just enough to stay credible. I like growing large weeds, anything that’s interesting.

Sheila McQuaid – I came across the gardens at an open day. It was such an oasis of green and calm that I put my name down on the spot. Gardening is in the family. My parents were horticulturalists and I grew plants as a child but I’ve only become really interested in the last ten years. We decided on fruit because it’s expensive, especially if you want organic, and it doesn’t need constant attention. I was born and brought up in Cornwall and I’ve lived in Tower Hamlets for twenty-five years. I’m a housing adviser for Camden Council and I work for Stitches in Time on community textile projects.

Anna Girvan and John Griemsman – We’ve had the plot for about ten years. We’re in a 10th floor flat in Limehouse and we wanted somewhere to spend time outside and to grow vegetables. I’m from Belfast and I’ve lived in Limehouse for twenty-five years. John is from Wisconsin and he’s been here for almost thirty years. I work as a librarian in the West End and John is a special needs assistant. I’m more pleased by the flowers in the end than the vegetables. My favourite is a dahlia that Annemarie gave me. It’s a beautiful purple pink and it flowers for such a long time.

Mary Laurencin – I’ve been gardening here for about ten years. A cousin asked me to help then passed the plot on to me. I’d never gardened before but I was suffering from depression and sometimes it was the only place I felt comfortable. I learned to garden mainly by watching television. I’m from St Lucia and I’ve lived in Tower Hamlets for forty years. I came to England in 1962 and at one time I did four jobs every day – I worked in a cafe, had a job at Sainsbury’s, I was a machinist and I did some cleaning. I grow vegetables here. I love flowers but you can’t eat flowers.

Conrad, Donald and James Korek – I garden here with my wife Catherine and our two younger sons, Donald, ten, and James, six. Our eldest boy isn’t interested now. We’ve lived in the borough for fourteen years and started gardening at Cable Street about a year after we arrived. We have a flat nearby and we like to spend time outdoors. I was born in North London and Catherine was brought up on a farm in Scotland, so she has more experience of growing food. James likes weeding and he supports Arsenal. Donald is a West Ham supporter and he’s good at picking up stones and chatting to the other gardeners.

Annemarie Cooper – I’m a supply teacher and I write poetry. I’ve had a plot since 1986. I didn’t know anything about gardening but I love nature and being close to the earth. My dad was a very good vegetable gardener. He and my grandfather shared a plot and they were always arguing about it. I’ve lived in Tower Hamlets for twenty years. When I started here I thought I wanted to grow flowers then I got into vegetables. I love growing sweet peas and big flashy dahlias. Really I like anything that deigns to grow. I enjoy growing tomatoes and digging up potatoes.

Emir Hasham – I’m on the waiting list and until I have a plot I’ll be working on the communal area. My work is computer based graphics and special effects for television and what I like about gardening is the real honest labour and getting my hands dirty. It will be great to grow my own fruit and vegetables My parents used to garden and I helped as a child. I was born in Sheffield. My mum is a Yorkshire lass and my dad is mainly Asian. I’ve lived in Tower Hamlets for twelve years now. I haven’t a garden at home and there’s only so much you can grow on a balcony.

Anwara Begum – I was born in Bangladesh. My father was a businessman and had some land. My seven sisters and I helped mother with the farming. We never had to buy food from the market and we sold bamboo and bananas. When I was sixteen I came to live in Tower Hamlets and ten years ago I started gardening at Cable Street. The four children helped when they were younger but now they are busy with other things. They have to study and help with the housework. I’m studying too – IT, Childcare, Maths and English. And I’m taking Bengali GCSE as well as doing voluntary work in a nursery school.

Joseph Micallef – I first came to the borough from Malta in 1955 and settled here permanently in 1961. I’ve had the plot for ten years. I didn’t know anything about gardening but my father had a farm in Malta so I knew something about agriculture. The vegetables came first and my wife likes the flowers, but I just enjoy seeing things grow and passing the time here. A lot of the produce is given away. You do tend to get too much at once. People look at the plot and think I’m an expert but I’m not, I just plant things and they grow.

Photographs copyright © Chris Kelly

You may also like to take a look at Chris Kelly’s Columbia School Portraits 1996

Working People & A Dog

May 22, 2025
by the gentle author

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tour this Saturday

 

Groundsman, E.15 (1965)

“This is the groundsman at the Memorial Ground where I played football aged ten in 1954.”

Some of my favourite people are the shopkeepers and those that do the small trades – who between them have contributed the major part to the identity of the East End over the years. And when I see their old premises redeveloped, I often think in regret, “I wish someone had gone round and taken portraits of these people who once manifested the spirit of the place.” So you can imagine my delight and gratitude to see this splendid set of photos and discover that during the sixties photographer John Claridge had the insight to take such pictures, exactly as I had hoped.

When John went back ten years later to the pitch near West Ham Station where he played football as a child, he found the groundsman was just as he remembered, with his cardigan and tie, and he took the photograph you see above. There is a dignified modesty to this fine portrait – a quality shared by all of those published here – expressed through a relaxed demeanour.

These subjects present themselves to John’s lens as emotionally open yet retaining possession of themselves, and this translates into a vital relationship with the viewer. To each of these people, John was one of their own kind and they were comfortable being photographed by him. And, thanks to the humanity of John’s vision, we have the privilege to become party to this intimacy today.

 

Kosher Butcher, E2 (1962) – “The chicken was none too happy!”

Brewery, Spitalfields (1964) Clocking in at the Truman Brewery, Brick Lane.

Lady with Gumball Machine, Spitalfields (1967) – “She came out of her kiosk and asked, ‘Will you photograph me with my gumball machine?'”

Saveloy Stall, Spitalfields (1967) – “It was a cold day, so I had two hot dogs.”

Whitechapel Bell Foundry, E1 (1982) Established in 1598, where the Liberty Bell and Big Ben were cast.

 

Rag & Bone Man, E13 (1961) – “Down my street in Plaistow, there were not many cars about – all you could hear was the clip-clop of the horse on the wet road.”

Shoe Repairs Closed Saturday, Spitalfields (1969) – “I asked, ‘Why are you open on Saturday?’ He replied, ‘I was just busy.'”

Spice, E1 (1976) – “Taken at a spice warehouse in Wapping.  The smells were fantastic, you could smell it down the street.”

Portrait, Spitalfields (1966) – “This is a group portrait of friends outside of their shop. The two brothers who ran the shop, the lady who worked round the corner and the guy who worked in the back.”

Anglo Pak Muslim Butcher, E2 (1962)

Butchers, Spitalfields (1966) -“I had just finished taking a picture next door, when this lady came out with a joint of meat and asked me to take her photograph with it.”

Fishmongers, E1 (1966) Early morning, unloading fish from Grimsby.

Beigel Baker, E2 (1967) -“After a party at about four or five in the morning, we used to end up at Rinkoff’s in Vallance Rd for smoked salmon beigels.”

Newsagent, Spitalfields (1966) -“I said, ‘Shame about Walt Disney dying, can I take your picture next to it?’ and he said, ‘Alright.'”

Selling Shoes, Spitafields (1963) – “My dad used to tell me what his dad told him, ‘If you’ve got a good pair of shoes, you own the world.'”

Strudel, E2 (1962) – “You’ll like this, boy!’ I had just taken a photograph outside this lady’s shop. I said, ‘I think your window looks beautiful.’ and she asked me in for a slice of apple strudel. It was fantastic!  But she would not accept any money, it was a gift. She said, ‘You took a picture of my shop.'”

Number 92, Spitalfields (1964)

Tubby Isaac’s, Spitalfields (1982) – “Aaahhh Tubby’s, where I’ve had many a fine eel.”

Junkyard Dog, E16 (1982) – “I was climbing over the wall into this junkyard.  All was quiet, when I noticed this pair of forbidding eyes – then I made my exit.”

Photographs copyright © John Claridge

You may also like to take a look at

John Claridge’s East End

Along the Thames with John Claridge

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In a Lonely Place

A Few Diversions by John Claridge

This was my Landscape

John Claridge’s Spent Moments

Signs, Posters, Typography & Graphics

A Fireplace In Fournier St

May 21, 2025
by the gentle author

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tour this Saturday

The scourging

There is a fine house in Fournier St with an old fireplace lined with manganese Delft tiles of an attractive mulberry hue illustrating lurid Biblical scenes. Installed when the house was built in the seventeen fifties by Peter Lekeux – a wealthy silk weaver who supervised two hundred and fifty looms and commissioned designs from Anna Maria Garthwaite – these lively tiles have survived through the centuries to educate, delight and inspire the residents of Spitalfields.

Tiles were prized for their value and their decorative qualities, and in this instance as devotional illustrations too. Yet although Peter Lekeux was a protestant of Huguenot descent, a certain emotionalism is present in these fascinating tiles, venturing into regions of surrealism in the violent imaginative excess of their pictorial imagery. The scourging of Jesus, Judith with the decapitated head of Holofernes, the Devil appearing with cloven feet and bovine features, and Jonah vomited forth by the whale are just four examples of the strangeness of the imaginative universe that is incarnated in this fireplace. Arranged in apparent random order, the tiles divide between scenes from the life of Jesus and Old Testament saints, many set in a recognisable Northern European landscape and commonly populated by people in contemporary dress.

It is possible that the tiles may date from the seventeenth century and originate from continental Europe. Their manufacture developed in Delft when, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, Chinese ceramics were imported from Portuguese ships captured by the Dutch, and because these were in demand local potters tried to copy them, starting a new industry in its own right. The earthenware tiles were covered with a tin glaze to create a white ground upon which the design was pricked out from a stencil, and then the artist simply had to join up the dots, producing the images quickly and to a relatively standard design.

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to illustrate!” exclaimed Sister Elizabeth at St Saviour’s Priory in Bethnal Green, colouring slightly when I showed her the tile of the topless woman dragging a bemused man towards a bed, “Maybe the woman taken in adultery?” Yet she was able to identify all the other stories for me, graciously assenting to my request when I called round to the priory seeking interpretation of the scenes in my photographs  – after I had spent a morning in Fournier St crouching in the soot with my camera.

Upon closer examination, several hands are at work in these tiles – with the artist who drew Jesus confronting the Devil in the wilderness and Jonah thrown up by the whale, setting the dominant tone. This individual’s work is distinguished by the particular rubbery lips and fat round noses that recall the features of the Simpsons drawn by Matt Groenig, while the half-human figures are reminiscent of Brueghel’s drawings illustrating the nightmare world of apocalypse. More economic of line is the artist who drew Jesus clearing out the temple and Pilate washing his hands – these drawings have a spontaneous cartoon-like energy, although unfortunately he manages to make Jesus resemble an old lady with her hair in a bun.

There is an ambivalence which makes these tiles compelling. You wonder if they served as devout remembrances of the suffering of biblical figures, or whether a voyeuristic entertainment and perverse pleasure was derived from such bizarre illustrations. Or whether perhaps there are ambiguous shades of feeling in the human psyche that combine elements of each? A certain crossover between physical pain and spiritual ecstasy is a commonplace of religious art. It depends how you like your religion, and in these tiles it is magical and grotesque – yet here and now.

My head spins, imagining the phantasmagoria engendered in viewers’ imaginations over the centuries, as their eyes fell upon these startling scenes in the glimmering half-light, before dozing off beside this fireplace in a weary intoxicated haze, in the quiet first floor room at the back of the old house in Fournier St.

In the wilderness, the Devil challenges Jesus to turn stones into bread.

Joseph and Potiphar’s wife.

St Jerome with the lion in the wilderness.

Jesus drives the traders from the temple.

Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well.

Sampson and Delilah, cutting Sampson’s hair

Noah’s flood.

The woman who touched Jesus’ robes secretly and was instantly cured of her haemorrhage.

Judith with the head of Holofernes

Pilate washes his hands after Jesus is bound and led away.

Jesus and the fishermen

Jonah sits under the broom tree outside Nineveh.

The soldiers bring purple robes to Jesus to rebuke him when he claims to be an emperor.

Jonah is cast up by the whale upon the shore of Nineveh.

You may also like to read about

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At The Eagle Tavern

May 20, 2025
by the gentle author

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tours

 

I wish you would take me out to the theatre. I dream of leaving the gloomy old house one evening and joining the excited crowds, out in their best clothes to witness the spectacular entertainments that London has to offer. The particular theatre I have in mind is the Grecian Theatre attached to the Eagle Tavern in Shepherdess Walk, City Road between Angel and Old St.

The place seems to have developed quite a reputation, as I read yesterday, “The Grecian Saloon is really a hot house or a black hole, for the number of human beings packed in there every night would induce a supposition there was no other place of entertainment in London. At least two thousand persons were left unable to procure admission.” This was written in 1839, demonstrating that the popular art of having a good time – still pursued vigorously in the many pubs and clubs here today – is a noble tradition which has always thrived in the East End, outside the walls of the City of London.

“Up and down the City Road, in and out the Eagle, that’s the way the money goes…” The Eagle public house in the rhyme still exists to this day, though barely anything remains of the elaborate entertainment complex which developed there during the nineteenth century – apart from a single scrapbook that I found in the archive of the Bishopsgate Institute. All the balloon ascents, the stick fights, the operas, the wrestling and the wild parties may be over, and the thrill rides closed long ago, but there is enough in this album to evoke the extravagant drama of it all and fire my imagination with thoughts of glamorous nights out on the town.

You only have to walk through Brick Lane and up to Shoreditch on a Saturday night, through the hen parties and gangs of suburban boys out on a bevy, jostling among the crowds of the intoxicated, the drugged and the merely overexcited, to get a glimpse of what it might have been like two hundred years ago. With as many as six thousand attending events at the Eagle Tavern, we can assume that lines must have formed just as we see today outside nightclubs.

On the site of the eighteenth century Shepherd & Shepherdess Pleasure Garden, the Grecian Saloon developed at the Eagle Tavern to provide all kinds of entertainments, from religious events to conjuring and equestrian performances. There are only tantalising hints that survive of these bygone entertainments. Yet sentences like “We are glad to find that little Smith has recovered her hoarseness” and “We have little to find fault with save that the maniac was allowed to perambulate the gardens without his keeper” do set the imagination racing. There are many fine coloured playbills in the cherished album, crammed with enigmatic promises of exotic thrills. I wonder who exactly was the beautiful Giraffe Girl, or General Campbell, the smallest man in the world. Amongst so much hyperbole there is a disappointing modesty to learn that the central attractions are merely supported by the “artistes of acknowledged talent.”

Elaborate pavilions with all manner of special effects were constructed at the Grecian Saloon, which in turn became the Grecian Theatre in 1858 where Marie Lloyd made her stage debut aged fifteen. Eventually the building was acquired in 1882 by General William Booth of the Salvation Army and the parties came to an end. Yet this site saw the transition from eighteenth century pleasure garden to nineteenth century music hall. The many thousands of souls who experienced so much joy there over all those years impart a certain sacred quality to this location, even if it is now mostly occupied by Shoreditch Police Station.

Watercolours of the New Grecian Theatre in 1899, built during the management of George Augustus Oliver Conquest in 1858 and later purchased by General William Booth of the Salvation Army

Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute

In Search Of The Yiddish East End

May 19, 2025
by M. Syd Rosen

Click here to book for The Gentle Author’s Tours

 

Writer & biographer M. Syd Rosen is on a quest to discover his family’s past and explore the significance of Yiddish culture today

My grandfather’s cousins’ butcher’s shop in Wentworth St photographed by Shloimy Alman

 

I live in a former hat factory opposite the school that Emanuel Litvinoff writes about in his memoir Journey Through a Small Planet. I moved back to Bethnal Green and into this building about eight years ago and Aleph, my partner, joined me here about two years ago. I say ‘moved back’ but I should not. I am not from Bethnal Green, no matter how long I live in the shadow of Litvinoff.

I use the word ‘shadow’ almost literally because a new yoga studio nearby has recently painted the author’s face on the side of their building in Cheshire St. Now, every day, as I head back from a walk or a visit to the shops, Litvinoff’s great bespectacled face looks down at me.

You have to go back two or three generations to find my family’s roots in Stepney, Whitechapel, and Spitalfields. This, I was always told, was a nowhere land, a place abandoned to the whims of the Luftwaffe. By the time I got here the Bethnal Green my family knew had long gone, the residents deceased or otherwise departed, taking with them as much of their language and culture as they could. To many, Yiddish meant little more than either tired humour or the unfamiliar world of Hasidism. In isolation, it was hard to argue otherwise. 2011 saw the end of Friends of Yiddish, a literary club for native Yiddish speakers that had been meeting at Toynbee Hall for the best part of a century. Nothing ever took its place because nothing ever could.

My grandfather on my mother’s side was the only member of my family—myself included—with an inkling of why it was that the East End remained important to us. Nudged into recollection by my imminent move east, my grandfather recalled teenage summers spent helping out at his cousin’s butchers shop on Petticoat Lane Market. My mind flashed to white coats speckled with blood and the rhythmic plucking of dead chickens before Litvinoff’s oversized face leapt into view and reminded me to keep the nostalgia in check. Nevertheless, here was something for me to grab ahold of, a marker so visceral that even a vegetarian such as myself wanted to just reach out and grab it.

Once, Wentworth St had fourteen butchers. Tired with time, my grandfather could not recall the location of his family’s shop nor quite what it looked like, only that it stood on a corner. Resigned to the fact that the area had long since changed, I hoped at least to be able to identify the right address.

My grandfather is decidedly English, a fact that obscures how close he was to the mass migration of Jews into East London from Eastern Europe—how close we are still, despite it all. Some of my family came from Czernowitz (Chernivtsi), a city in what is now Ukraine. Czernowitz is best remembered by Yiddishists for having played host to a hugely influential conference on the state of the language in 1908. Today the city is a common stopping-off point for those seeking refuge in nearby Romania.

There would be no mass Yiddish tomorrow as dreamed of by the linguists of Czernowitz. But still Yiddish thrived in London, as it did all over the world, leaving in its wake a voluminous and varied cultural output to which my generation have next to no recourse, whatever our backgrounds.

Aleph and I wanted to try to do something about this. We set up a project dedicated to exploring the past, present, and future of Yiddish culture, particularly how it relates to contemporary struggles over memory and power. We wanted to learn more about where Yiddish culture came from and where it still might be able to take us.

In preparation, I decided to rewatch a number of films with an eye to what we could screen, including Carol Reed’s A Kid for Two Farthings (1955). Written by Wolf Mankowitz, the film takes its name and structure from ‘Chad Gadya’, a Jewish song dating back to the sixteenth century. Traditionally sung at Passover, ‘Chad Gadya’ concerns the fate of a poor little goat who is eaten by a cat who is in turn bitten by a dog who is then beaten by a stick. On it goes, in familiar shaggy-dog fashion.

In A Kid for Two Farthings our hero Joe is an imaginative little boy living in a bustling but deprived East End street market. Joe dreams not of a goat but of a unicorn magical enough to grant his friends and family their wishes. Filmed in the summer of 1954, A Kid for Two Farthings showed Petticoat Lane at both its heyday and its swansong. Amidst establishing shots of hawkers and housewives and spinsters and spivs, Joe spies a pigeon and decides he must have it. As I watched Joe hunt his prey in vain I suddenly spotted a blurry blue butcher’s shop in the background. If you squint hard enough, ‘Frankel’ comes into view, the surname of my grandfather’s London relatives. Like Joe, my unicorn was flickering into technicolour life.

A Kid for Two Farthings was mostly shot on location, so I knew there was a high chance this was a real building. For the sake of convenience, though, Reed stitched together his make-believe market out of several different streets, making use of sets and dressing real buildings when necessary. Checking a commercial directory, I learned that L. Frankel was indeed located at 30 Wentworth St, sharing a corner with Goulston St, just as it appeared to do in Reed’s film.

Though the entire film revolves around Wentworth St, the only glimpses of L. Frankel are to be had in these two brief shots. Happily, the building still stands today. The attractive green tiles and hand-painted sign are gone, but the capitals on either side of the shopfront remain.

Families like mine stopped speaking Yiddish around the time Reed’s cameras arrived in Spitalfields. By that stage it had long been derided as zhargon, ‘jargon’, one of those ‘miserable [and] stunted’ half-languages better suited to the ‘stealthy tongues of prisoners.’ These words belonged to no less influential a figure than Theodore Herzl, whose determination to crush Yiddish meant abandoning not just a way of speaking but a deep link to our collective past. Herzl was, of course, wrong. It gave Aleph and I no small pleasure to call our new project Jargon, in celebration of a language and a culture all too readily dismissed.

London is still home to tens of thousands for whom Yiddish is their mother tongue. Many others continue to learn it, for either sentimental reasons, out of alignment with the values of diasporic life, or to work their way through a vast and largely untapped cultural heritage. Our project is not just for Yiddish speakers though. We are setting up a book club for Yiddish literature in translation, organising film screenings that consider the meaning of ‘Jewish cinema’, hosting artists’ talks and authors in conversation, and running book sales. We want to find a way to talk about this world without romanticising it, to critique it without isolating it.

Jargon is launched next Sunday 25th May at House of Annetta, 25 Princelet St, E1 6QH. For a full programme and to purchase tickets, visit jargon.org.uk.

The corner of Wentworth St and Goulston St today

L. Frankel’s butcher shop at the corner of Wentworth St and Goulston St in the background of this still from A Kid for Two Farthings in 1954

L. Frankel’s butcher shop in the background of another still from A Kid for Two Farthings in 1954

Emmanuel Litvinoff gazes down onto Cheshire St

You may also like to read about

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Crowdfund Report

May 18, 2025
by the gentle author

 

Thanks to the generosity of 230 readers who contributed to our crowdfund and some other donors, we have raised the budget for Tessa Hunkin’s Hackney Mosaic Project which will be published on Thursday 2nd October.

I am especially pleased to publish this book because I believe Hackney Mosaic Project is an inspirational model of how local people can come together and collaborate to beautify their neighbourhood and celebrate community. In such troubled times, we surely need hopeful and positive examples of human creativity dedicated to the common good.

Thank you Carl Adamak, Rose Ades, Karen Alexander, Kate Amis, Elizabeth Aumeer, Michael Babcock, Joan Bailey, Gaynor Baldwin, Madeleine Ball, Rosie Barker, C. M. Barlow, Gillian Baron, Karen Beesley, Hilary Blackstock, Bookartbookshop, Richard & Jenni Bowley,  Lindsay Bown, Iain Boyd, Christopher Brown, Michael Jake Brown, James Buchan, Claire Burkhalter, Sarah Campbell, Helen Carpenter, Patricia Carroll, Lynne Casey, Janet Cheffings, Christine Chinnery, Shirley Collier, Wendy Cook, J. A, Cooper, Valerie Cottle,  Eleanor Crow, John Curno, Rachel Darnley-Smith, Rosie Dastgir, Victoria Diggle, Catherine Howard-Dobson, Clare Edwards, Josephine Eglin, Marion Elliot, Janet Ellis, Sian Evans, Susan Fine, Simon Foley, Sue Grayson Ford,  Doreen Fletcher, Susie Freedman, Nancy Frankin, Vivian French, John Furlong, Chris Gad, John Gillman, Gillygrannyruth, Dorothy Twining Globus, Michael Gornall, Sophie Green, Nina Grunfeld, Melanie Hamill,  Jayne Hamilton, Catherine Harris, Julia Harrison, Claire Hayward, Patricia Haupt, David Heath, Lesley Hemming, Lubaina Himid, Tony Hollington, Tim Hunkin,  Barbara R. Jones, Matthew Kay, Hilda Kean, Michael Keating, Patricia Kelly, Sara Kermond, Colette Khan, Deirdre Lacey, L Langmead, Oliver Lazarus, David Lester, Howard Lewis, Jenny Linford, Pauline Lord, John Patrick Lowe, Sarah Ludford, Stephen Makepeace, Tim Mainstone, Anne Manion, Fiona Marlow, Hellen Martin, Sara Mason, Rachel Matthews, Ava Mayer, Phil Mayer, Frances Mayhew, Jill Mead, Julia Meadows, Jennifer, Michael, Helen Miles, Janet H. Mohler, Iain Monaghan, Annie Moreton, Matilda Moreton, Isabel Morris, Zoë Mulcare, Angus Murray, Margaret Nairne, Jennifer Newbold, Ros Niblett, Geoff Nicholls,  Bernadette Nolan, Gilbert O’Brien, Jan O’Brien, Sharon O’Connor, Vivienne Palmer, Enrico Panizzo, Peter Parker, Pamela Percy, Lynne Perrella, Fiona Pettitt, Andrea Petochi, Dame Siân Phillips Stoodley Pike, Alison Pilkington, Kate Pocock, Kay Porter, Molly Porter, Alice Patullo, Jeffrey Ian Press, Deb Rindl, Gaby Robertshaw, Corvin Roman, Anne Sally, Tim Sayer, Julia Scaping, Elizabeth Scott, Kate Scott, Mary Scott, Janet Sharples, Silvervanwoman, Ellen R. Sippel, Charles Saumarez Smith, Mary Smith, Roderick Smith, A. Sparks, Alexander Spray, Lawrence P. Stevenson, Lexy Stones, Harriet Storey,  Christine Swan, Amanda Talsma-Willians, Catherine Thomas, Penelope Thompson, Sophie Thompson, E. G. Timlin, Penny Tunbridge, Cathey Unwin, Sarah Vaughan, Jonty Wareing, E. Walker, Arabella Warner, C. C. C.  Waspie, Lianne Weidmann, Karen Wesley, Robert Whitney, Hilary White, James White, Carol Whitman, Margaret Willes, Jane Williamson, Jill Wilson, Mary Winch, Julian Woodford, Michael Zilka and many others who choose to be anonymous.

 

The Docks Of Old London

May 17, 2025
by the gentle author

The crowdfund for Tessa Hunkin’s Hackney Mosaic Project book closes today Saturday 17th May at midnight

 

Within living memory, the busiest port in the world was here in the East End but now the docks of old London have all gone. Yet when I walk through the colossal new developments that occupy these locations today, I cannot resist a sense they are merely contingent and that those monumental earlier structures, above and below the surface, still define the nature of these places. And these glass slides, created a century ago by the London & Middlesex Archaeological Society for magic lantern shows at the Bishopsgate Institute, evoke the potent reality of that former world vividly for me.

Two centuries ago, the docks which had existed east of the City of London since Roman times, began an ambitious expansion to accommodate the vast deliveries of raw materials from the colonies. Those resources supplied the growing appetite of manufacturing industry, transforming them into finished products that were exported back to the world, fuelling an ascendant spiral of affluence for Britain.

Despite this infinite wealth of Empire, many lived and worked in poor conditions without any benefit of the riches that their labour served to create and, in the nineteenth century, the docks became the arena within which the drama of organised labour first made its impact upon the national consciousness – winning the sympathy of the wider population for those working in a dangerous occupation for a meagre reward.

Eventually, after generations of struggle, the entire industry was swept away to be replaced by Rupert Murdoch’s Fortress Wapping and a new centre for the financial centre at Canary Wharf. Yet everyone that I have spoken with who worked in the Docks carries a sense of pride at participating in this collective endeavour upon such a gargantuan scale, and of delight at encountering other cultures, and of romance at savouring rare produce – all delivered upon the rising waters of the Thames.

Deptford Dock Yard, c. 1920

Atlantic Transport Liner “Minnewaska” – The Blue Star Liner “Almeda” in the entrance lock to King George V Dock on the completion of her maiden voyage with passengers from the Argentine, April 6th, 1927.

Timber in London Docks, c. 1920

Wool in London Docks, c. 1920

Ivory Floor at London Dock, c. 1920

Crescent wine vaults at London Dock – note curious fungoid growths, c. 1920

Unloading grain – London Docks, c. 1920

Tobacco in London Docks, c. 1920

Royal Albert Dock, c. 1920

Cold Store at the Royal Albert Dock showing covered conveyors, c. 1920

Quayside at Royal Albert Dock, c. 1920

Surrey Commercial Dock, c. 1920

Barring Creek, c. 1920

Wapping Pier Head, c. 1920

Pool of London, c. 1920

Mammoth crane, c. 1920

Greenwich School – Training ship, c. 1910

The Hougoumont on the Thames, c. 1920

Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute

You may like to read these other stories about the London Docks

Colin Ross, Docker

George Wells, Able Seaman

Views from a Dinghy by John Claridge

Along the Thames With Tony Bock

Among the Lightermen

Whistler in Limehouse & Wapping

Dickens in Shadwell & Limehouse

The Grapes in Limehouse

Madge Darby, Historian of  Wapping

Steve Brooker, Mudlark