This building in Aberdeen Place was put on the market for £4.25 million and subsequently converted into apartments, at the time it was on the top 10 endangered list by the Victorian Society in 2007 is a testament to one man’s optimism.

It was built as the palatial Crown Hotel in 1898 by Frank Crocker who had heard that a new rail terminal was to be built here.

[H]E SPARED NO EXPENSE; every wall, window and ceiling is decorated in sumptuous style, with elaborate stucco featuring frolicking cherubs, with fine pillars and nice Victorian wood panelling. It had a grand saloon with marble bar-top and pilasters, marble stringing, marble archways, even a great marble fireplace; with a magnificent Jacobean-style coffered ceiling of the most intricate plasterwork; and acres of gleaming woodwork.

Probably the craziest was perhaps the bust of Caracalla a sly demonstration that the pub’s designers were quite conscious of the excess to which their client was pushing them: Caracalla was a Roman emperor known for his architectural excesses and his complete insanity.

Alas for Crocker! The truth is that while London as a whole may have welcomed the influence of the railway, most of the historic landlords and the well-heeled residents of this part of St John’s Wood did not. Their opposition forced the railway builders to tunnel under Lord’s Cricket ground and then the line turned left a few degrees at St John’s Wood, to terminate not at his doorway, but about a mile away, where Marylebone Station now stands, so expensive was this tunnel that the train operators were forced to economise on their own stations, that is why Marylebone Station is modest compared to say, St Pancras.

The Crown Hotel was a palace in the middle of nowhere; the grandest folly in London so tragic that London has been laughing about it for over a century. Crocker, naturally, went bust and then killed himself by jumping out of an upstairs window.

If you want to see what it looked like back in the 1960s the pub was used in a scene from the film Georgy Girl.

A version of this post was published by CabbieBlog on 21st September 2010

“It’s a wonderful building and in the housing crisis you could have picked it up for £4 million.”

Usually the talk of the Metropolitan Elite, for once on a journey to an overpriced mid-terrace in Fulham I found myself in conversation with a passenger about an outstanding building.

“ . . . now the price has rocketed – £8 million is probably now the asking price.”

[I]t was approaching the time for my lunch break, so more out of curiosity, rather than a desire to add to my property portfolio, I decided to investigate this Victorian bargain basement in Broomhouse Lane.

Elizabethan Schools is a Gothic Revival building built in 1855 as a Ragged School for the estate workers of Broom House. Financed by Laurence Sulivan the head of a leading philanthropic family and named after his late wife Elizabeth Palmerston-Sulivan, the sister of the then Prime Minister Lord Palmerston.

Designed to accommodate 120 children with kitchens and apartments for the schoolmaster and schoolmistress with in addition two almshouses.

Although the 1870 Education Act negated the need for Ragged Schools Elizabeth Schools continued beyond the Great War with 70 pupils still on its rolls.

In 1920 the London County Council purchased Elizabethan Schools as a place to provide education for the delicate, particularly tuberculosis children. By modern standards this would have seen a surprising decision since the school had no electricity and a large draughty hall on the ground floor which was used as a classroom to educate the younger children.

Since the school had no electrical power it only had a battery wireless set, but it was difficult to get the batteries recharged and so the set was seldom used – it is not known if electricity was ever installed in its lifetime as a school.

It closed in 1960. Following closure it was known as the Eight Feather Youth Club, latterly as the Castle Club.

Whoever stumps up the purchase price will buy a Victorian gem. Designed by architect Horace Francis it was Grade II listed in 1970. The red brick contrasts beautifully with the black diaper, an oriel window lifts its ornate brickwork and gargoyles embellish this fine example of Victoriana.

Oriel bay picture [left] and a history of the school can be found at Lost Hospitals of London. Main picture by Matt Brown (CC BY 2.0).

This sad boarded up building in Aberdeen Place, on the market now for £4.25 million and put in the top 10 endangered list by the Victorian Society in 2007 is testament to one man’s optimism. It was built as the palatial Crown Hotel in 1898 by Frank Crocker who had heard that a new rail terminal was to be built here.

He spared no expense; every wall, window and ceiling is decorated in sumptuous style, with elaborate stucco featuring frolicking cherubs, with fine pillars and nice Victorian wood panelling. It had a grand saloon with marble bar-top and pilasters, marble stringing, marble archways, even a great marble fireplace; with a magnificent Jacobean-style coffered ceiling of the most intricate plasterwork; and acres of gleaming woodwork.

[P]robably the craziest was perhaps the bust of Caracalla a sly demonstration that the pub’s designers were quite conscious of the excess to which their client was pushing them: Caracalla was a Roman emperor known for his architectural excesses and his complete insanity.

Alas for Crocker! The truth is that while London as a whole may have welcomed the influence of the railway, most of the historic landlords and the well-heeled residents of this part of St John’s Wood did not. Their opposition forced the railway builders to tunnel under Lord’s Cricket ground and then the line turned left a few degrees at St John’s Wood, to terminate not at his doorway, but about a mile away, where Marylebone Station now stands, so expensive was this tunnel that the train operators were forced to economise on their own stations, that is why Marylebone Station is modest compared to say, St Pancras.

The Crown Hotel was a palace in the middle of nowhere; the grandest folly in London so tragic that London has been laughing about it for over a century. Crocker, naturally, went bust and then killed himself by jumping out of an upstairs window.

If you want to see what it looked like back in the 1960s the pub was used in a scene from the film Georgy Girl.