For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Horses for courses (20.05.11)

With Boris cabs now becoming Public Enemy Number One and with ever more traffic flow restrictions, and councils trying to turn London’s roads back to Victorian times, an average speed of 8 mph is now still no higher than they were a century ago when we used Shank’s Pony. Nevertheless, it is a mistake to imagine that London’s streets would have been more pleasant with four-legged horsepower. A good example is this film of traffic passing in front of the Bank of England in 1903.

By the end of the 19th century, 300,000 horses were working in the capital, each producing four tons of dung a year, amounting to a total of 1 million tons a year which was good for roses, typhoid and dysentery, but little else. Horses were also involved in an average of 175 fatal accidents a year in addition to the deaths caused by transmitted diseases from the dung.

Horsepower lasted well into the last century: Old Kent Road’s horse-drawn tram was taken out of service in 1913; incredibly by 1935 five per cent of transport some 20,000 horse-drawn carts were still to be seen in the capital; as nowadays cabbies were reluctant to any change, the last horse-drawn cab, plied the Victoria Station rank and only retired on 3rd April 1947.

Camden Market, now a shopper’s paradise for the weird and wonderful was once a horse hospital for the 1,300 horses employed in the environs of King’s Cross, treating among other injuries those caused by animals slipping on wet cobblestones.

London’s equine past is commemorated in several street names. Horseferry Road led to one of the few crossings across the Thames, this one from the 16th century was used until 1750 and owned by the Bishops of Lambeth.

Jacob the Circle Dray Horse, Queen Elizabeth Street: The famous courage dray horses were stabled on this site from the early nineteenth century and delivered beer around London, from the brewery on Horselydown Lane near Tower Bridge. In the sixteenth century, this area was known as Horselydown which derives its name from Horse-Lie-Down, a thing that horses did here before crossing the river at London Bridge to enter the City of London.

Equine statutes litter London’s landscape, but one in St. James’s Square illustrates just how dangerous riding horses can be: this statute of King William III was erected in 1806 and there is something strange about it. A small molehill lies at the feet of Sorrel, the King’s horse. What is the molehill for? The answer is that William is said to have died of pneumonia, a complication from a broken collarbone, resulting from a fall off his horse. Because his horse had stumbled into a mole’s burrow. William was the Protestant King brought to England from Holland to replace the last Catholic: King James. James’s supporters and all Jacobites then and now still toast “the little gentleman in the black velvet waistcoat”. The mole that killed a king. The saying “Dutch Courage” also comes from William III’s reign.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

A dressing down (17.05.11)

The news recently of the untimely death at 56 of Edward Stobbart – who took his father’s small haulage business comprising eight lorries, and turned it into one of the most successful logistics companies in the country – should remind us all in the transport industry what is meant by customer service and brand awareness. Stobbart’s 2,250 trucks make a delivery every 5.5 minutes travelling a total distance every day the equivalent of 21 laps of Earth.

The success of Eddie Stobbart can be attributed to Edward’s ability to create an icon; the drivers are always smart and until recently would face disciplinary action if they did not wear a shirt and tie at the wheel. The truck, is always immaculately clean and each is painted in highly recognisable corporate colours. The trucks are driven competently with care and consideration to other road users – they say an Eddie Stobart truck is passed on England’s roads every 4.5 minutes – note it’s not the other way round, with the truck thundering past the motorist.

Compare and contrast that with London’s cabs. Once an internationally recognised icon; first, the colour was changed from Henry Ford’s “you can have any colour you like as long as it’s black” to a kaleidoscope of colours; next advertising was permitted, and now other manufacturers produce “black cabs”; now with the proliferation of private hire vehicles, it’s hardly is surprising that tourists find identifying a cab confusing. Many of London’s cabs are filthy both inside and out, gone are the days when the driver could be ordered to clean his cab before picking up another fare.

Now with summer approaching drivers will be seen with the most bizarre apparel, looking only fit to be seen on a Spanish beach than providing a professional service driving what was once one of the most iconic vehicles in the world.

Stobbarts even have their own fan club with 25,000 members, about that same number of London Black Cab Drivers ply for hire on London’s streets. If only black cabs could engender enough loyalty for themselves – many have lost the values that Edward Stobart understood so well.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

The Festival of Empire (12.05.11)

When I was young affixed to the classroom wall of my primary school was a giant map measuring 5 feet wide by 4 feet high. It depicted the world with each country picked out in a colour denoting its governance. Proud to be pink was the order of the day – stretching across the entire map – for pink-denoted countries belonging to the British Empire.

It was said by the English that the sun never set on its Empire, and Indians from the sub-continent were given to remark: That God didn’t trust the English in the dark. Little did we know it then but just after the Second World War it really was the remains of the day for Britain’s Empire and the sun was indeed setting – those little pink shapes would be changing colour one by one.

One hundred years ago on 12th May 1911 King George V opened The Festival of Empire at Crystal Palace, a rather self-congratulatory piece of theatre. “The Festival of Empire, Imperial Exhibition and Pageant of London: Crystal Palace” to give it its formal title was originally due to open in 1910, but his father King Edward VII after only nine years on the Throne managed to eat himself to death.

With a budget of £½ million, the Festival of Empire would stay open until 28th October 1911, giving visitors two main entertainments:

The Great Pageant of London and the Empire gave the Empire’s glorious development from the “Dawn of British History” to a Grand Imperial Finale, in which visitors from the Dominions joined with the English performers to provide a wonderful “living picture” illustrating the vastness of the British Empire. Upwards of 15,000 performers with music accompanying the scenes performed by a band of 50 and a chorus of 500. The Pageant gave visitors various scenes including The Dawn of British History; Roman London; King Alfred and London; the Danish Invasion; The Norman Conquest; Return of Richard I; Edward I; and The Days of Chivalry.

While the All-British Exhibition offered a cut-down version of The Great Exhibition devoted to British Arts and Industries. The following sections were among some of those that were represented: Applied Chemistry; Pianos; Mining; Engineering; Shipping; Transportation and Motive Power; Decoration and Furnishing; Arts and Crafts; Home Industries; Photography; British and Colonial Agriculture; Forestry; Fisheries; Sports; and Imperial Industries.

To reinforce the perception ion of Britain’s power and might the British Empire was constructed in miniature on the Palace grounds, complete with three-quarter-size replicas of the Parliament buildings of all the Commonwealth countries. These replicas, their exteriors architecturally complete to the smallest detail, were built of timber and plaster. They depicted the Parliament Building of the Union of South Africa, the Government Building of Newfoundland at St. Johns, the Parliament Building of New Zealand at Wellington, the Federal Government Building of Australia at Melbourne, and at a cost of over £70,000 the building of the Government of Canada. For tuppence ha’penny, a miniature railway could take the visitor to view a South African diamond mine, an Indian tea plantation, and a Canadian logging camp.

Unfortunately the British were celebrating the last gasps of the Empire, three years later the Great War would see a generation of young men die in the trenches, the Wall Street Crash would help destroy Britain’s wealthy families, and in 1936, the venue, Crystal Palace burnt to the ground.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Avoid idleness and intemperance (22.04.11)

In 1837 a young woman found herself the monarch of her country, she was to remain Queen during an unprecedented time of burgeoning industry and wealth creation, giving her name to the 64 years she reigned and a time Britain was at its zenith of influence and power.

That same year a novel was printed which would change a country’s attitude to the poorest and venerable, that novel was the second major work to be published by Charles Dickens.

Charles Dickens was no stranger to poverty. In 1823 when his father lost his job and was sent to Marshalsea debtor’s prison 11-year-old Charles worked in a blacking factory pasting labels on shoe polish bottled for six shillings a week. At that time he also certainly worked alongside children from the workhouse, it was an experience that would remain with him all his life and be the subject of his novel Oliver Twist.

In 1834 a Poor Law was enacted, with the sole purpose of discouraging claiming relief in times of poverty and forcing individuals to take work offered to them however low the pay. Welfare assistance was only available inside the workhouse, once admitted the unfortunate inmates would be deloused and forced to wear uniforms, families were broken up and if individuals were capable of working they would be sent to labour for unscrupulous employers. The very young, ill or old who were unable to produce an income were in most cases refused admission to the workhouse and starved to death.

In a fascinating piece of research, Dr Ruth Richardson has established the source material for Oliver Twist which tells the story of the illegitimate orphan Oliver who endures a miserable time at the workhouse and during his parish apprenticeship with an undertaker, before running away and being taken in by a gang of juvenile pickpockets.

It was known that Charles Dickens lived in a certain Norfolk Street twice in his early life for a period of four years. Dr Richardson has established that Norfolk Street once was the southern continuation of Cleveland Street which exists today and that Dickens lived only nine doors away from the Cleveland Street workhouse ending years of speculation by historians to the exact location of Dickens’s childhood home.

Cleveland Street Workhouse was constructed in about 1780 on what at that time was a burial ground. Starting life as the parish workhouse for St. Paul’s, Covent Garden in 1836 it functioned as an infirmary, maternity unit, insane asylum or a place to deposit those suffering from highly contagious diseases.

Even by workhouse standards 44 Cleveland Street was dreadful, a contemporary account by Dr Joseph Rogers the chief medical officer at the workhouse from 1856-68, reported: a laundry in the basement filling the dining hall with foul-smelling steam; carpets regularly beaten directly outside the men’s infirmary; the nursery both damp and overcrowded; “nursing” provided only by elderly female inmates, many of whom were apparently habitually drunk; the brutal indifference of the Guardians of the workhouse; the “dead house” adjoins the main structure. This led him to campaign for better standards in the medical care available to workhouse inhabitants.

After the Poor Law was reformed the Cleveland Street Workhouse passed first into the control of the Central London Sick Asylums District, then to the Middlesex Hospital and thence to the University College London Hospital complex. Closing in 2006 when UCLH moved all their services onto a single unified site.

The building is believed to be London’s only existing purpose-built Georgian workhouse, a rare example of social engineering from the 19th century; now after a five-year-long campaign the most famous workhouse in the world has been saved thanks to its Grade II listing.

Without it would Charles Dickens have written so passionately his most successful novel and then spent a lifetime campaigning for better welfare to be given to the poor? Now 44 Cleveland Street has been given a Heritage listing we have an opportunity to convert this rare Georgian building into flats whilst keeping its integrity, and use some of that income to provide a teaching and resource centre at the very heart of social and welfare reform that has benefitted us all today.

In an echo of Dachau with its sign “arbeit macht frei” (works brings freedom), above the gates of the Cleveland Street Workhouse was a statute of an old man pointing to the words: “Avoid idleness and intemperance”, as with Dachau, 22 Cleveland Street’s importance to our lives should not be forgotten.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

It’s a two-way street (19.04.11)

It was the Peruvians – that’s if Wikipedia is to be believed – who invented the first one-way street for their capital Lima.

The idea to the layman appears obvious, traffic flows better if all vehicles are moving in the same direction. Find two parallel streets in a city and you have the makings of a one-way traffic system, and with the correct signage or today’s SatNavs, nobody should get lost or confused.

Now conventional traffic planning appears to have been turned on its head. The first scheme to remove a one-way system was the Aldgate East gyratory, built in the 1970s it was criticised ever since for creating a “racetrack” mentality among motorists, terrifying pedestrians and cyclists. The word racetrack in this context is a euphemism for no traffic jams and was about the only road left in London where you could travel at 30mph. Now at Aldgate, the surrounding areas of Whitechapel and Spitalfields are gridlocked for virtually the entire day. The queue of stationary traffic spreads throughout all the small residential streets around the area.

The next one-way system to receive attention was Piccadilly Circus. Creating a bus lane at the southern extremity of Shaftsbury Avenue and making the west side of Piccadilly Circus two-way by inserting a 200-yard-long bus lane has improved journey times for buses travelling south. Unfortunately for buses travelling north on Lower Regent Street, the effect can only be described as gridlock with dozen of buses stationary. Anecdotal evidence suggests that Freedom Pass holders are alighting from their bus at the back of the jam, walking past the Piccadilly Circus pinch point to get on to the next available bus exiting the jam.

The latest roads about to get a £14 million two-way makeover are Piccadilly, Pall Mall and St. James’s Street which is but a stone’s throw from Albemarle Street which was the first one-way street in London. The occasion prompting this decision was a series of lectures given by Samuel Taylor Coleridge at the Royal Institute. The resulting traffic jams caused by those eager to attend resulted in such horrendous queues of horse drawn carriages that the measure was quickly adopted to remove the congestion and the road remains one-way to this day.

Supporter of the two-way movement, the Head of the New London Architecture Centre, Peter Murray, said: “One-way streets reflect the dominance of the car and the failed go-faster policies of the traffic engineers. As we begin to realise that walking and cycling should be the dominant forms of transport, the one-way street should be consigned to the dustbin of history.”

The two-way movement believes that a lot of gyratory systems were built in the Sixties and it is timely to remove them believing two-way streets make journeys easier for drivers and keep more traffic on the main road and out of side streets.

Other thoroughfares in the traffic planner’s sights include: Wandsworth; New Cross; and I can’t believe I’m writing this; Tottenham Court Road and Gower Street; followed by Baker Street and Gloucester Place once the 2012 Olympics are over.

No doubt there is a wealth of computer simulations that turn conventional wisdom on its head to prove two-way is the way to go, but they should remember the best-laid schemes of Mice, Men and Macs can go wrong.

In 1864 London’s first traffic island was built on St James’s Street, one of the roads currently being turned two-way. It was funded by one Colonel Pierpoint who was afraid of being knocked down on his way to (and more likely from) his Pall Mall club. When it was finished, the good colonel dashed across the road to admire his creation, tripped and was bowled over by a cab.