Richard Ivey In Toynbee St
Photographer Richard Ivey took these pictures recording the extravagant derelection evident in the buildings to the east of Toynbee St in Spitalfields, some of which have been decaying for forty years
Photographs copyright © Richard Ivey
These photographs are reproduced courtesy of Architeckton
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Phil Maxwell in The Royal London Hospital
At Chatham Dockyard
Cliff, HMS Gannett
Behold the ancient mariner I met at Chatham Dockyard. After a long career navigating the seven seas, he now guides visitors around HMS Gannett permanently berthed in a dry dock on the Medway.
Over three hundred years, more than four hundred warships were constructed here and, during the eighteenth century, Chatham became one of this country’s largest industrial sites. Even today – thirty years after it ceased to be a working dockyard – the legacy of this endeavour over such a long period and on such a scale is awe-inspiring.
The vast wooden vault of the covered slipway, dating from 1834, is something akin to a cathedral or an aircraft hangar, and climbing up into the roof is a spatial experience of vertiginous amazement. At the other end of the dockyard, a ropewalk contains a room that is a quarter of a mile long for spinning yarn into cables. Midway between these two, I discovered the Commissioner’s Garden, offering a horticultural oasis in the midst of all this industry with a seventeenth century Mulberry at its heart.
Yet as my feet grew weary, my sense of wonder grew troubled by more complicated thoughts and emotions. The countless thousands that laboured long and hard in this dockyard through the centuries produced the maritime might which permitted Britain to wrestle control of the Atlantic from the French and the Spanish, and build its global empire, delivering incalculable wealth at the expense of the people in its colonial territories.
For better or worse, to see the machinery of this history made manifest at Chatham is an experience of wonder tinged with horror which cannot be easily reconciled, yet it is an inescapable part of this country’s identity that compels our attention if we are to understand our own past.
Horatio Nelson
HMS Gannet (1878)
The covered slipway (1838)
The covered slip was designed by Sir Robert Sebbings, Surveyor to the Navy Board & former Shipwright
HMS Ocelot (1962)
HMS Cavalier (1944)
Threads of yarn are twisted to make twine
Rope continues to be manufactured today in the ropewalk
Machinery from 1811 is still in use
The rope walk dates from 1729
Women were employed from 1864 when mechanisation was introduced
Officers’ houses (1722-33)
The Cashier’s Office where Charles Dickens’ father John Dickens worked as a clerk, 1817-22
Figures and coat of arms from HMS Chatham (1911) on the Admiral’s Offices
Sail & Colour Loft (1734) where the sails for HMS Victory were made
Admiral’s Offices (1808) with George III’s coat of arms
Entrance to the Commissioner’s Garden
Seventeenth century Mulberry tree in the Commissioner’s Garden
Richard Wellesley, brother of the Duke of Wellington, and Royal Dockyard Church (1755)
Main Gate (1720) with arms of George I
Visit CHATHAM HISTORIC DOCKYARD, open every day from February until November
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The Mile End Mulberry
Mulberry in Mile End Place
A tip-off from a reader sent me down to Mile End Place to visit an ancient Mulberry tree there and I was delighted for the excuse to visit this appealing hidden enclave of old cottages where an atmosphere of peace prevails that feels almost rural.
A Mulberry tree stands conspicuously in the front garden of a house on the west side of the Place, with a pair of branches outstretched which give it the appearance of a monstrous creature about to reach out and grab you. Yet this was not the object of my quest but perhaps a younger relative of the venerable Mulberry I was seeking, that crouches in the back garden of a cottage on the east side of the street. Traversing the boundary of two gardens, this is a black Mulberry which still bears prolific fruit each summer.
My first thought was that this Mulberry might be contemporary with the cottages in Mile End Place which date from the early nineteenth century, until I climbed up and looked over the garden wall to discover the Velho Sephardic Cemetery on the other side. This is Britain’s oldest Jewish cemetery, which opened in 1657, a year after Cromwell’s re-admission of the Jews – while upon the west side of Mile End Place is the Alderney Rd Ashkenazi Cemetery, which dates from 1697.
The proximity of these hidden green spaces flanking Mile End Place accounts for the peaceful nature of this secluded street and may also explain the presence of the ancient Mulberry tree, dating it to the seventeenth century.
Elsewhere in London, I have discovered Mulberry trees which predate the houses around, speaking of an earlier time when these urban locations were gardens, and I like to think this specimen in Mile End is another example. This is the enigma of these charismatic trees laden with stories as well as fruit, if only we know how to gather them.
The ancient mulberry in the back garden
The gardens of Mile End Place seen from the Velho Cemetery
Mile End Place seen from Alderney Rd Cemetery
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David O’Mara’s Spitalfields
I have published many pictures of renovations of old houses in Spitalfields but David O’Mara‘s candid photography reveals the other side of these stories, recording the back-breaking labour and human toil that is expended upon these endeavours
“For the past ten years I have worked as a painter & decorator in London, both as a means of surviving and also funding my artistic practice – but the roles of artist & decorator are not always easily reconciled, time demands and budgets often lead to a conflict of interests.
My work is described as ‘restoration,’ though I began to question the truth of this description. From the beginning, you strip back the layers of previous occupants. Cupboards, doors and walls that were later additions are all removed. At every turn and removal you notice the evidence of previous lives, all to be erased and replaced with freshly painted blank surfaces – everything is pared back to the tabula rasa.
This has a resonance with my own experience: the daily repetition of tasks erodes memory, time is distilled into but a few recollections. I started photographing my working life as a way of recording the disappearing history of the houses and also to combat the erosion of memory through the repetition of work.” – David O’Mara
Photographs copyright © David O’Mara
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Tales From The Two Puddings
Tales From The Two Puddings, a documentary about Eddie Johnson’s legendary pub is being shown at Stratford Picture House on 14th July & Cafe 1001 in the Truman Brewery on 21st July
Shirley & Eddie Johnson on their first day behind the bar in 1962
Through four decades, from 1962 until 2000, Eddie Johnson was landlord of the celebrated Two Puddings in Stratford, becoming London’s longest serving licensee in the process and witnessing a transformation in the East End. When Eddie took it on, the Two Puddings was the most notorious pub in the area, known locally as the Butcher’s Shop on account of the amount of blood spilt. Yet he established the Puddings as a prime destination, opening Britain’s first disco and presenting a distinguished roll call of musicians including The Who – though the pub never quite shook off its violent notoriety.
“I’ve had a lot of blows,” Eddie confided to me with a crooked grin, his eyes glinting enigmatically. Even in his eighties, Eddie retains a powerful and charismatic demeanour – very tall, still limber and tanned with thick white hair. Of the old East End, yet confident to carry himself in any company, Eddie admitted to me he was the first from his side of town to make it into Peter Langan’s Brasserie in Stratton St, mixing with a very different clientele from that in Stratford Broadway. It was indicative of the possibility of class mobility at the time, and there were plenty from the West End who were persuaded to take the trip east and experience the vibrant culture on offer at the Puddings.
“I came from the Old Ford Rd and I suppose you’d refer to it as a slum by today’s standards, but I never thought that because I had a happy childhood, even if we had an outside toilet and went to the bath house each week. The public library was heaven to me, all polished wood and brass, and I got a great love of schoolboys’ adventure stories which made me wish I could go to public school though, of course, I’d have hated it if I did. After I got married and had a son and then another, I had a number of dead end jobs. When I came out of the army, I became involved with a rough crowd. I worked with my brother Kenny organising dances. I was a bit of a hooligan and I got stabbed in a dance hall. But then I found a job as a Tally-clerk in the docks and became involved with the Blue Union – the skilled workers and stevedores. I was the Tally-clerk on Jack Dash’s strike committee. I loved it down there and, though I didn’t make a lot of money, I didn’t care because I loved the freedom. We could more or less do what we wanted.
The licensee of the Two Puddings got in trouble with the police, so Kenny and I bought the lease because we were frightened of losing the dance hall. Since my brother couldn’t hold the licence owing to an earlier court case, I had to take it. Now I didn’t fancy managing a pub and I had been to the Old Bailey for GBH, so I had to be upfront with the police in Stratford but they were horrible. They said,‘We’ve seen you driving around in a flash car,’ and I said, ‘I’l tell you where you can stick your licence!’ But this butcher, Eddie Downes, a huge fat man with a completely bald head who looked like a cartoon butcher, he told me not to worry. He had a reputation as a grass and he was always boasting about his connections to the police. ‘You’ll still get your meat from me?’ he asked, and three months later we were granted a licence.
We moved into the Puddings and after the opening night, I said, ‘I can’t stand this,’ and then I stayed forty years. I used to come downstairs on a Friday night and look around hoping there weren’t going to be any fights and I’d get all tensed up, but after a few light ales I’d be happy as a sandboy. The place would be packed and we’d be serving beer in wet glasses – it was fairly clean and people didn’t mind. We sold four hundred dozen light ales in a week, nowadays a pub is lucky to sell two dozen. We worked six nights a week plus a fortnight holiday a year and, on Wednesdays, my wife and I used to go up to the West End for a night out – but after forty years, it was tough.
At the end of the sixties, they knocked down a lot of buildings and did a redevelopment in Stratford. We lost all our local trade, but we still had our music crowd. It was ear-splitting music really and we were the first pub to have UV. We called the club the Devil’s Kitchen and got a licence till two in the morning, and it was ever so popular. People came from far and wide.”
At the end of the last century, changes in the law required breweries to sell off many of their pubs and the Two Puddings changed hands, resulting in a controversy over discounts offered to publicans and a court case that saw Eddie Johnson thrown out of his job. Today, he lives peacefully in Suffolk and has organised his stories into an eloquent memoir. It is the outcome of lifetime’s fascination with writing that led Eddie to read the great novelists during his hours of employment in the London Docks. His first story was printed in The Tally-Clerk at that time, but he realised his ambition to become a writer with the publication of “Tales from the Two Puddings,” and in turn this became the basis for the documentary film premiering this summer in the East End.
Eddie aged nine, 1941.
Eddie when he worked in the docks.
Early Saturday morning and preparing to open. Eddie behind the bar and George the potman to his right.
Old George the potman.
Shirley Johnson with Rose Doughty, the famous wise-cracking barmaid.
Eddie’s sister Doreen (second left) and friends heading upstairs to the Devil’s Kitchen, above the Puddings (photograph by Alf Shead)
Eddie and his brother Kenny with their beloved Uncle John in the Puddings.
Saturday night in the Puddings.
Joe and Sue, Eddie’s father-in-law and mother-in-law, enjoying a Saturday night in the Puddings.
Eddie Johnson
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Housing Problems
Writer David Collard introduces HOUSING PROBLEMS (1935) as part of a programme of East End related documentary films, including FIRES WERE STARTED (1943) directed by Humphrey Jennings and filmed around the Docks and in Wellclose Sq, at Vout-O-Reenees in Aldgate next Thursday 14th July at 7pm. Email info@vout-o-reenees.co.uk to book your free ticket ticket
Read about David Collard’s successful campaign to Save Spiegelhalters last year
Elegy For Upton Park
The departure of West Ham football team from the Boleyn Ground in Upton Park after more than a century, prior to a move to the Olympic Stadium in Stratford, is an event of such momentous import that Contributing Photographer Colin O’Brien could not resist going down after the final game to capture the drama outside the pitch while I interviewed a fan to get a personal testimony of this historic watershed.
The Gentle Author – How did this all start?
West Ham Fan – I’ve been a West Ham Fan since I was seven. A friend of mine was a West Ham Fan so I became one too, but I only started coming to the Boleyn Ground about ten years ago when I could afford a season ticket, and now I’m there every Saturday, every home game and the occasional away game too.
The Gentle Author – What is the appeal of West Ham?
West Ham Fan – They’ve obviously got this connection with the World Cup because of the players that were in the England team in 1966, Bobby Moore, Martin Peters & Geoff Hurst. And there’s a wonderful history going right back to the dockers and the Thames ironworks playing in the team. From the moment I got my season ticket and started going regularly, I realised it’s such a friendly club. You go in there and sit down with this group of people, and they ask ‘Who are you?’ and you are welcomed into this new family. Now if I can’t go on a Saturday, they want to know, ‘Where are you? Are y’alright? What going on?’ Everyone there is really friendly, even though the reputation may have been slightly tarnished now and again in the eighties… (laughs)
The Gentle Author – What is the significance of Upton Park?
West Ham Fan – Upton Park, or the ‘Boleyn Ground’ as we call it, has been the stadium West Ham have been at since the beginning in 1904 and it’s a wonderful place. A lot of people were very opposed to leaving and there was a big campaign not to go because of the history which surrounds it. You’ve got the Bobby Moore statue across the road and fans have this real love for it as somewhere they’ve been coming for years and years. The fact that West Ham were going to move out was too much for some people. Over the years they have improved the stadium, so one side has been built up but there’s another side that they call the ‘Chicken Run,’ which is quite an old stand that could have been redeveloped. I think West Ham could have stayed if they had wanted to, but the lure of the Olympic Stadium as somewhere more commercial and more high profile was too much for the owners.
The Gentle Author – What are your feelings about the move?
West Ham Fan – A lot of fans are very upset but I am on the fence – I can’t compete with people who have been going there since 1966 and have this long affinity. I think it’s a wonderful place and it holds a place in my heart – it’s that Saturday morning feeling and that buzz as you’re walking out, going to see West Ham, but I think this is a new exciting chapter beginning. Let’s see how it goes. I’ve already looked at my seat. The seat I’m at now is very close to the pitch but the seat I’m going to have is very far away so I’m never going to have the intimacy I had at Upton Park.
A lot of people have a Saturday routine. There’s Ken’s Cafe where fans have a meal every time they go to West Ham and the Boleyn pub where they go and have a pint. It was a whole day out, not just going to watch the football match. But this is all going to change and their routines will go out the window. It was a complete experience, of getting on the train with the other fans, the crowd, the buzz, the stalls, the shop – a lot of people went in the shop and you’d see them carrying bags with the latest kit. How this is going to translate over to the new stadium I don’t know. I know a few people who are not going to go…
The Gentle Author – Were you at the final game?
West Ham Fan – Yes, I was there. It was quite chaotic getting in, there were fans everywhere. I got off the tube at Upton Park and it took me half an hour to get up the road that normally takes ten minutes because there were people everywhere celebrating and being sad, making the most of the last game. I got in the stadium and it just happened to be one of the best games West Ham have played all season – we beat Manchester United 3-2. So the game was absolutely wonderful, then afterwards there was this big celebration with fireworks and all the players coming in. I think for a lot of fans it was very, very emotional, leaving for the last time but, for me, it was like leaving a place of work where you don’t believe it until you start in a new place. When the new season begins, that’s when it will really hit people – when they go to the Olympic Stadium. It was a wonderful night, a special occasion but a sad evening too. There were lots of tears and lots of people very upset. There were a lot of grown men crying that night.
The Gentle Author – When does the new season begin?
West Ham Fan – The new season starts in August. We’ll go from a thirty-five-thousand-seater stadium to a sixty-thousand-seater stadium and it’s going to be full, so there’ll be lots of new people coming to see West Ham along with fans who’ve been going since they were kids. It also enables cheaper seats so more families can come. In front of me, there’s three generations of West Ham Supporters and I love that.
When the stadium closed there was a big auction and they offered fans the chance to buy their own seat. I was delighted to get mine, R35 – which is a plastic seat in a presentation box that I can keep in my cupboard and occasionally get out and sit on when no-one’s looking.
Photographs copyright © Colin O’Brien
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