Spitalfields Speaks
Today is the Spitalfields Music Midsummer Street Party and I am publishing these excerpts from Spitalfields Speaks – recordings of three people from Spitalfields Life by sound artist Duncan Chapman. At the party this afternoon, there will be a ‘Spitalfields Speaks Hut’ in Market St where you can record your own contribution to a collaborative sound-art piece to be performed at The Waterpoet at 4pm, or pick up headphones to listen while exploring the neighbourhood.
Can sounds become extinct? Can a house have a life of its own? Welcome to Rodney Archer’s eighteenth century house on Fournier St where he has lived since 1980. Rodney invites you to listen to the sounds that characterise it – the creaky stairs, the humming of the gas lights, the trickling water of the fountain… Click here to listen to the sound of Rodney’s bell.

Click here to listen to the sound of Rodney’s creaking door.

Click here to listen to the sound of Rodney’s gaslights.

Click here to listen to the sound of the fountain in Rodney’s garden.

Marge Hewson has been the nursery nurse at Christ Church Primary School on Brick Lane since 1971. Every morning for the past forty-one years, she has collected schoolchildren from their homes on the Chicksand Estate and delivered them safely to school. Click here to listen to part one.
Join Marge on her daily journey – although it does not even cover a mile in distance, it covers a lifetime of stories and memories for Marge and the generations of schoolchildren who have joined her. Click here to listen to part two.

A former sea captain in the Merchant Navy and now a Justice of the Peace, Captain Shiv Banerjee takes you on a voyage from India to the East End, dropping anchor at various ports en route. Click here to listen to part one.

Shiv Banerjee talks about his life at Toynbee Hall in Spitalfields, where he arrived in 1975 and has lived ever since. Click here to listen to part two.
Photographs of Time Passing in Spitalfields
Quaker St, 1967
The passage of time in Spitalfields became visible to Philip Marriage as he made successive visits over three decades to take these photographs, which I publish here for the first time today. Working for HMSO publications in Holborn and commuting regularly through Liverpool St Station, he revisited Spitalfields sporadically over the years, drawn by a growing fascination with those streets where his ancestors had lived centuries earlier.
The poignant irony of these pictures is that while Philip came to Spitalfields in search of the past, he discovered many of the streets which interested him were retreating in time before his lens, disintegrating like phantoms into the ether, even as he was photographing them.
In 1967, when Philip Marriage first visited with his camera, he found a landscape scattered with bomb sites from World War II and he witnessed the slum clearance programme, as settled communities were displaced from their nineteenth century cottages and tenements into new housing complexes. Twenty years later, he encountered the opposing forces of redevelopment and conservation that were reshaping the streets to create the environment we recognise today.
But other, less obvious, elements affect our perception of time in these photographs too. Those pictures from 1967 exist in a lyrical haze which is both the result of air pollution caused by coal fires and the unstable nature of colour film at that time. By the eighties, the smog has been consigned to the past and better colour film delivered crisper images, permitting photographs which appear more contemporary to us.
Yet it was relatively recent events in Spitalfields, that came after he took his pictures, which render Philip Marriage’s photographs so compelling now – as windows into a lost time before the closure of the Truman Brewery and the Fruit & Vegetable Market.
Quaker St, 1987
Quaker St, looking west, 1967
Quaker St, looking west, 1987
Artillery Lane, 1967
Artillery Lane, 1985
Samuel Stores, Gun St, 1985
Samuel Stores, Gun St, 1986
Former Samuel Stores, Gun St, 1987
Verdes, Brushfield St, 1988
Verdes, Brushfield St, 1990
Poyser St, Bethnal Green, 1967
Poyser St, Bethnal Green, 1967
Cheshire St with Rag & Bone Man, 1967
Middleton St, Bethnal Green, 1967
Photographs copyright © Philip Marriage
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Philip Marriage’s Spitalfields
Alan Dein’s East End Shopfronts of 1988
Mark Jackson & Huw Davies, Photographers
The Unveiling of the Spitalfields Dioramas

It is my great pleasure to invite you to a party to celebrate the unveiling of the restored Dioramas of Spitalfields at the Bishopsgate Library next week on Friday 29th June from 7pm. You may recall that back in March, Glyn Roberts, landlord of The Bell in Petticoat Lane, wrote to say he had discovered some neglected old models of Spitalfields in the cellar. Once upon a time, these beautiful dioramas by Howard Karslake enjoyed pride of place in the barroom, but when Glyn bought the pub three years ago they were dusty and damaged, and had been consigned to oblivion.
At that time, Glyn was looking for a new home for the dioramas and, thanks to my article, the Bishopsgate Institute agreed to take them. Now they have been lovingly repaired by Jenny Kallin and permanently installed in the library, and we hope you can be there at the grand unveiling by Mavis Bullwinkle followed by a knees-up with drinks and live music.
Please join us for an unforgettable evening to celebrate Spitalfields past and present. Be sure to email stefan.dickers@bishopsgate.org.uk to put your name on the list.









At the Truman Brewery Brick Lane, looking north.


The barroom of The Bell.


The cellar of The Bell.

Click this picture to enlarge the diorama of Petticoat Lane

The celebrated Mavis Bullwinkle who will be unveiling the dioramas.
Invitation designed by James Brown
You may like to read my original story
Further Trade Cards of Old London
After publishing selections of trade cards that might have been found in the eighteenth century by rummaging in a hypothetical drawer, searching down the back of a hypothetical sofa, looking under a hypothetical bed, discovered beneath the hypothetical floorboards, or happened upon in the pockets of a hypothetical coat, it is my pleasure to show this further selection that fell out of a hypothetical book.
Images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
You may like to see my earlier selections
More Trade Cards of Old London
Yet More Trade Cards of Old London
The Coles of Brushfield St
When Kate Cole saw Philip Marriage’s photographs of Spitalfields last week, it inspired her to write this account of her ancestors who once lived in Brushfield St which I publish here today. “When I started my family research in the mid-eighties, I quickly discovered the connection to Spitalfields Market.” Kate told me, “And, even though I have often visited the redeveloped market, when I think of Spitalfields, it is the eighties image that stays in my mind. So Philip Marriage’s photos proved irresistible and led me finally to tell the story of my Victorian grocer of Spitalfields Market.”
Kate Cole and her daughter Rose outside the former Cole’s grocery shop in Brushfield St.
I must be amongst a very rare number of twenty-first century Londoners who can visit the East London home of my ancestors and walk in their steps. Many of my Victorian ancestors lived in Bishopsgate in the City of London and Brushfield St in Spitalfields. Whilst I can no longer visit my ancestors’ substantial Bishopsgate home and factory, as it was compulsory purchased and swept away in the 1880s by the Great Eastern Railway so they could build the mighty Great Eastern Hotel in its place, I can still visit my ‘ancestral’ home in Brushfield St on the edge of Spitalfields Market.
Up until the 1870s, Brushfield St was known as ‘Union St East’. Halfway down, on the right-hand side – if you are walking from Bishopsgate – is a parade of shops all dating from the eighteenth century. Many readers may be familiar with the lovely restored Victorian frontage of the food shop A.Gold and the women’s fashion shop next door, Whistles. But have you ever looked above their signage and spotted a small plaque on the wall in between the two? This is from 1871, marking the parish boundary of Christ Church Middlesex and there on the wall, for all of London to see, is the name of my great-great grandfather, R. A. Cole.
In the 1850s, Robert Andrew Cole was a grocer and tea-dealer, living above his shop and trading from the premises which is now Whistles. Robert Andrew, along with his wife, Sarah Elizabeth (née Ollenbuttle) and their five children, William, Sarah, Margaret, Robert and Arthur, all lived in this terrace – first at 23 and then at 25 – for some thirty years from the 1850s until the 1880s, when the market was redeveloped and Robert Andrew Cole retired to Walthamstow. As an aside, I do find it ironic that today’s swanky redeveloped Spitalfields Market is now known as Old Spitalfields Market. In Robert Andrew Cole’s day, it was a brand spanking new, and perhaps an unwanted market with posh new buildings. Its very existence and construction was probably one of the reasons why the Coles gave up their shop and retired to the countryside of Walthamstow.
For many years, Robert Andrew Cole was also a churchwarden of Christ Church, Spitalfields and also the Governor and Director of the Poor of the parish. So he must have been amongst the wealthiest of this East London parish. In circa 1869-1870, Union St East was renamed Brushfield St, and it is possibly the renaming of this street which lead to the church boundary being marked in the wall in 1871. Hence, churchwarden R. A. Cole’s name was recorded for posterity in the brick-work. He must have been a very proud man when his name was unveiled on the terrace where he lived.
However, despite their standing in the community, the Cole’s time in Brushfield St was not entirely happy. Two of the Cole children, Sarah Elizabeth and William Henry, succumbed to a devastating outbreak of scarletina – then a deadly infectious disease. Both children were buried in Tower Hamlets Cemetery on 2nd August 1857. William was aged only twenty-two months and Sarah was a month short of her fourth birthday. One can only imagine the pain and horror experienced by their parents, along with the fear that their only surviving child, Robert, then aged five, might also fall victim to the terrible disease.
It must have been an awful time for this one Victorian family living in the shadows of Christ Church Spitalfields and the Fruit & Vegetable Market. However, their son Robert, did not become another victim (for, if he had, I would not be writing their story, as he is my great-grandfather). Eight months after burying their two children, a new child, Margaret was born, and a further year later, Arthur. Sadly, Margaret also did not survive childhood and once again, in 1869, the Cole family of Union St East buried another one of their own in Tower Hamlets Cemetery.
I have often pondered the fate of this small East End family. Of the five children, only two survived into adulthood and, of those two, only one had children of his own. Arthur Cole died a bachelor in his fifties and was buried in the second Cole family grave in Tower Hamlets Cemetery alongside his mother, grandparents, great-aunts, and great-uncles – true Londoners who worked, lived and died in the East End of the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Robert Andrew Cole, grocer and tea-dealer of Spitalfields Market, was buried in the same grave as his three children who had not survived childhood. While Robert Cole, the only child of Robert and Sarah Cole who went on to marry and father his own children, married Louisa Parnall, a member of a fantastically successful Welsh family of industrialists and philanthropists who had a substantial clothing factory on Bishopsgate.
When you are next in Brushfield St, stand and look up at the plaque marking the parish boundary of Christ Church, Middlesex. Then look down into the windows of Whistles clothes shop. The funeral processions of the Cole children must have stopped here on their way to Christ Church, before going to Tower Hamlets Cemetery. Imagine the tragedy and triumph that went on between those four walls and the drama of the daily family life of the Victorian grocer and tea-dealer, Robert Andrew and Sarah Elizabeth Cole.
Robert Andrew Cole, born 10th February 1819, Anthony St, St George in the East, baptised 7th March 1819 in the parish church of St George in the East. Married 25th December 1850 St Thomas’ Church, Stepney to Sarah Elizabeth Ollenbuttle. Died March 1895 in Walthamstow. Buried in one of two Cole family graves in Tower Hamlets Cemetery. Grocer and tea-dealer of Spitalfields Market for over thirty years. Churchwarden of Christ Church Spitalfields and Governor and Director of the poor of the parish.
Robert Cole, eldest child of Robert Andrew and Sarah Elizabeth Cole, born 4th May 1852 in Tunbridge Wells. Married 11th January 1880 to Louisa Parnall (great-niece of Robert and Henry Parnall of Bishopsgate). Died 17th June 1927 in Raynes Park, South London. Buried in Putney Vale Cemetery. Grocer and teadealer.
Margaret Cole, baptised 28th March 1858 at Christ Church, Spitalfields. Buried 20th January 1869 in Tower Hamlets Cemetery aged eleven years. The child in this photo looks to be about seven or eight years old, which dates all three photos to approximately the mid-1860s.
Robert Cole in 1879.
Louise Parnell – This tintype photo and the one of Robert above were possibly taken at their betrothal, before their marriage in January 1880.
The locations of the Coles’ business in Brushfield St and the Parnell’s business in Bishopsgate.
Philip Marriage’s photo of Brushfield St in 1985 with the former Coles premises indicated by the awnings.
Brushfield St in 1985, looking from the east.
The boundary stone with R. A. Cole’s name is on the top left of this picture from the eighties.
The boundary stone of 1871 in Brushfield St with the name of R.A.Cole.
Kate and her daughter Rose are the sixth and seventh consecutive generations of their family to work in the Bishopsgate area. Kate works in Finsbury Sq and Rose has just started in Finsbury Circle.
Archive photographs of Brushfield St © Philip Marriage
Cole family photographs © Kate Cole
You might like to take a look at Kate Cole’s blog Voices of Essex Past
Working People & a Dog

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 – published here for the first time – 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
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Along the Thames with John Claridge
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At the Mansell St Garage
Maurice Courtnell & his son Gary
Maurice Courtnell, proprietor of the Mansell St Garage, is not entirely optimistic about the Olympics coming to the East End next month. “It’s going to be worse than wartime!” he informed me gravely, “They’re turning people’s lives upside down, and for what?”
Fortunately, Maurice has taken precautions by installing a caravan into his garage where he and his son Gary will sleep for the duration of the Olympics, thus sparing themselves the risk of travelling back and forth to Basildon in the melée. And if things should descend into a dystopian nightmare, Gary has a Land Rover that he restored which could serve as their escape vehicle in the last resort. “We carried on, all through the war and the bombing,” Maurice assured me confidently, emphasising that he does not intend to let the Olympics interrupt his garage’s record of more that seventy-five years of service.
Such a combination of prudence and ingenuity is characteristic of the Courtnell family who run the East End’s oldest garage, started by Maurice’s father, Edward Courtnell, in 1935 in Mansell St. Amidst the fly-by-night world of motor repair, they have acquired such a reputation over the decades for trust and good service that the name of the garage has stuck, even though it moved from Mansell St more than thirty years ago, and no-one thinks it strange at all to find it half a mile from Mansell St in Cannon St Rd.
For over half a century, the Mansell St Garage took care of all the police cars for the City of London Police and, now that sufficient years have gone by, Maurice can admit – in discreet tones – that once upon a time the Mansell St Garage also did work for most of the notorious East End gangsters, tuning their motors. You might say that it created a certain equality back in the day, both for the cops and the crooks, when it came to the business of get-away vehicles and car chases.
Set back from the road, occupying a former World War II Ambulance station, the Mansell St Garage incarnates the oily romance of motoring superlatively. Sunlight streams through from windows high in the iron roof, casting a glow – upon all the utilitarian clutter that has arrived at its best arrangement through years of use, upon the gaudy adverts for motor parts and upon Maurice’s cherished photograph of the Queen with her favourite horse. Remarkably, for a garage, she is the only female whose photograph you will find on the wall here. “We’ve never displayed nude photographs of women,” Maurice asserted with pride, “because they come in as customers and we treat them with the greatest of respect.”
The surname Courtnell is an unusual one and I did wonder if Maurice might be of Huguenot descent, but he was quick scotch such an ignoble notion. “I’m a true Cockney, I’m proud of my country.” he declared, ” there’s no French in me!”
“My grandfather used to make steam engines and he was bare knuckle pugilist who fought in Hackney Wick. My father started the garage after he had been fleet manager for Goldsteins, clothing manufacturers. They gave him the garage in North Tenter St. All through the war, he was in the home guard and continued to run the garage when it was requisitioned for the RAF. He won a medal for shooting given by the City of London Gun Club and he took me down the Blackwall Tunnel and taught me to shoot, and then after the war I became top gun. I was sixteen when I joined the garage in 1949. My brother Terry was a speedway star who competed for Britain in the World Championship and my brother Edward, the eldest son, did bodywork at the garage until he went off on his own. Terry was killed in a car crash in 1956 and is remembered to this day as speedway legend.
My two sons work with me today, Terry and Gary. They’re the third generation in the business. Terry does the bodywork, Gary does electrics and I do MOTs – I’ve been doing them since it started in 1972. It’s a long, long while. I’ve met some lovely people, some very important people. I’ve always done work for the Tower of London and St Paul’s Cathedral and the London Hospital. You take people as you find them. In my life, I’ve seen them all come and go – first the Jewish people, next the Greeks and the Turks, then the Blacks after them, and now the Asians. They’re all good people. Not everyone’s a millionaire. We can repair cars that insurance companies would write off. Anyway life goes by and we get on very well with the Ministry of Transport. They come every three months to keep an eye on things.
I enjoy diving and I hope I can make eighty-one, and do a hundred foot dive and beat Jacques Cousteau who died at eighty. I shan’t ever retire. I come here because it’s my life. I’ve no interest in sitting indoors and watching TV, there’s no life in that. I’m an old timer, so if an old car wants repairing they’ll need me!”
Maurice Courtnell, proprietor of the Mansell St Garage started by his father Edward in 1935.
Maurice on the Olympics -“It’s going to be worse than wartime!”
Maurice & Gary in the caravan where they will be sleeping for the period of the Olympics.
Maurice & Gary with Gary’s Land Rover that he restored himself.
The mini that Maurice plans to have ready for his grandson to drive (currently fifteen years old).
The entrance from Cannon St Rd.
Dean Stringer, striker for Leyton Orient, is proud to work at the Mansell St Garage.
“I’m an old timer, so if an old car wants repairing they’ll need me!”
Mansell St Garage, 145-147 Cannon St Rd, London E1 2LX.
Read about Maurice Courtnell’s favourite curry house
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