Tales From the Terminals: Fenchurch Street
In the next instalment of this series on London’s major rail stations, we take a look at Fenchurch Street which, located on the eastern fringe of the City’s historic square mile and financial district, is one of the capital’s smallest mainline terminals.
Origins of the Street Itself
Fenchurch Street, from which this City terminal takes its name, is one of London’s oldest thoroughfares.
In the midst of the organised chaos that is London’s rush hour, the vast crowds of commuters pouring out of this city terminal every weekday morning probably don’t have time to pause and reflect on the fact that they are treading in the footsteps of ancient Romans…
It is believed the site of Fenchurch Street was originally occupied by a Roman fort, hastily erected to guard Londinium following Boudicca’s brutal, fiery revolt which had been unleashed on the fledgling city circa AD60.
As things settled down, the city’s founders went onto lay out the curved path which Fenchurch Street now follows.
The western end would have linked to the forum; Londinium’s hub of business and commerce, whilst the eastern extent exited the city walls at Aldgate, from where it merged with the main road to Colchester.
Over the years, a considerable bounty of Roman artefacts have been unearthed from beneath Fenchurch Street, including fragments of flooring, gold coins, evidence of workshops, a curios aisled hall and, as recently as 2008, a large, long-forgotten cellar.
A sketch from 1858 detailing a Roman mosaic fragment found beneath Fenchurch Street
As for the name ‘Fenchurch’ itself, the origins are uncertain, but it is generally believed the term derives from ‘faenum’; the Latin phrase for hay (a market selling hay was once held regularly near what is now the junction of Fenchurch Street and Gracechurch Street).
A bale of ‘Faenum’… Latin for hay & the possible origin of the word, ‘Fenchurch’
Much more recently, Fenchurch Street lent its name to the fictitious ‘Fenchurch East’ police station, around which the 1980s based time-travelling drama, Ashes to Ashes centred!
Fenchurch East… DCI Gene Hunt and Alex Drake, upholding law & order 1980s style!
The Railway Arrives
The origins of Fenchurch Street station lie in the London and Blackwall Railway which was masterminded by Robert Stephenson and began operating in 1840.
Robert Stephenson (son of railway pioneer George Stephenson), chief engineer behind the line running into Fenchurch Street (image: Wikipedia)
At first, the line was short, running for just 3 ½ miles through the East End and, with stations based at Shadwell, Stepney, Millwall and the Isle of Dogs, the route was essentially created to serve London’s then sprawling dockyards.
Fenchurch Street remained closely associated with the docks for many years; a link which was atmospherically summed up in 1921 by the writer H.M Tomlinson when describing the station in his book, London River:
“Beyond its dingy platforms, the metal track which contracts into the murk is the road to China… it is the beginning of Dockland.”
The capital’s vast docks held many links with the Orient and until WWII, London’s China Town centered around Poplar in the East End. This famous Victorian illustration depicts an opium den which would have been found in the area, a short train ride out of Fenchurch Street.
A few years later, Ford Madox Ford described one of the most common types of passenger to be seen at Fenchurch Street; “huskily earringed fellows” donned in “blue-white spotted” neckerchiefs; sailors passing through the station making their way to or from a stint at sea.
Popeye and Bluto… two typically tough sailors!
Today, much of the original harbour-linked route is now traversed by the modern Docklands Light Railway, the Jolly Jack Tars now replaced by smart-suited financial workers.
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During its first year, the city terminal for the London and Blackwall Railway was located on Minories, opposite the Tower of London and a few hundred feet behind the present Fenchurch Street station.
Today, this historic site is now covered over by Tower Gateway DLR station.
The Minories pub, which can be seen next door tucked away beneath the brick viaduct, occupies a space which was once home to one of the early station’s main entrances.
Site of the former Minories Station
Fenchurch Street station opened in 1841, replacing the temporary terminal which had served the line for one year.
Although it wasn’t London’s first major railway station, Fenchurch Street represented the first time that the railways were allowed to enter the city’s historic heart (earlier terminals, such as Euston and London Bridge, had to make do with sitting on the fringes of what were then the capital’s outskirts).
Tracks right into the City… Fenchurch Street, 1853
The building was originally designed by Sir William Tite; the architect behind the Royal Exchange (once a major business centre, now a luxury shopping mall opposite the Bank of England).
The Royal Exchange; another of Tite’s vital City landmarks, pictured here in 1844. (Image: Wikipedia)
Tite also carried out work on railway stations in Windsor, Carlisle and Edinburgh.
A fashionable Chelsea street is named after William Tite… and, for those with a less mature sense of humor, the great architect’s moniker is pronounced as in ‘tight’!
William Tite, father of Fenchurch Street station (image: National Portrait Gallery)
During the first nine years of operation, the London and Blackwall Railway was unusual in that no steam engines ran along its tracks… instead, the trains were hauled by long, sturdy cables, powered by stationary boilers housed in depots at Fenchurch Street and Blackwall.
The London and Blackwall Railway’s early winching system. This machinery was based at Minories, opposite the Tower of London.
On the approach into Fenchurch Street, the carriages would be detached from the rope, relying upon gravity to roll the convoys into their final destination.
When leaving, the cars usually required a slight push from the platform staff!
By 1849 this system was deemed clumsy and impractical. Regular steam trains were introduced and their wheel-less predecessors were auctioned off, fetching the handsome sum of £11,710.
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In 1854, Fenchurch Street was enlarged by George Berkley who added a vaulted roof and the present day façade. Educated in Hampstead, George Berkley was well qualified, having worked on railways in India and South Africa, as well as the experimental London and Croydon ‘atmospheric’ railway.
Fenchurch Street also became notable for pioneering the first railway bookstall which was the brainchild of William Marshall and has been much emulated ever since.
An 1886 ‘Punch’ magazine sketch depicting an early station bookstall as pioneered at Fenchurch Street staion (image: University of Toronto Library Archive)
Despite its central location and the role which it plays in London’s rush hour, Fenchurch Street is unique in that it is the capital’s only major terminal which has no direct link to the tube network…
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Britain’s First Railway Murder
At 9.50pm on the night of the 9th July 1864, a Hackney bound service chugged out of Fenchurch Street, embarking on what should have been a straight forward journey.
Steam engines at Fenchurch Street in 1905 (photo: Disused Station.org)
In fact, the service proved to be far from routine and quickly found itself at the centre of one of the most notorious incidents in the history of Britain’s railways…
Being long after the rush hour, the carriages that summer evening were relatively empty and, settled down in one of the first-class compartments, there sat a Mr Thomas Briggs; a 70 year old banker.
At 10.10pm, the train pulled into Hackney Central station.
As two clerks prepared to board, the first class compartment in which Mr Briggs had been sitting was found to be in a complete mess; the plush interior splattered with blood. An abandoned walking cane and an empty leather bag lay amongst the carnage… but the occupant was nowhere to be seen.
Mr Briggs, the unfortunate passenger was soon discovered lying on the tracks, some distance back from Hackney station where the line passed Victoria Park. He had clearly been violently assaulted and robbed before being hurled out of the moving train.
Barely alive, the elderly victim was quickly carried to the Top O’ the Morning pub on nearby Cadogan Terrace… but sadly, it was to no avail and Mr Briggs died in the tavern.
The ‘Top of the Morning’ pub.. still serving pints today (photo: Google Street View)
The suspect was soon identified thanks to information from a London cabbie who had purchased a gold watch chain from a German tailor called Franz Muller… an item which it transpired had belonged to Mr Briggs.
Franz Muller
Backed up by further evidence from a Cheapside-based pawnbroker (known by the rather startling name of John Death), Franz Muller became the prime suspect and a warrant for his arrest was issued.
However, by this point Muller had fled the country and was bound for New York.
Luckily the steamer he was on was rather slow and detectives from Scotland Yard were able take a faster vessel which overtook Muller’s ship… the cops were lying in wait for the killer when he docked in the Big Apple.
The SS City of Manchester… the fast ship upon which detectives in pursuit of Franz Muller travelled to New York.
Upon his arrest, Muller was found to be in possession of Mr Briggs’ gold watch… along with his elderly victim’s hat, to which Muller had made several snazzy alterations.
Franz Muller didn’t have any time for sightseeing in America.
He was taken back to London and tried; the jury taking just 15 minutes to find the culprit guilty.
Unsurprisingly for the time, the sentence was death.
Franz Muller was hung outside Newgate Prison on the 15th November 1864, his execution being one of the last to be held in public. Despite this, there was still a great appetite amongst the public for these gory spectacles… Muller’s dance with the gallows attracted a crowd of 50,000….
A Victorian crowd gather to witness an execution at Newgate….
Franz Muller’s fatal encounter with Thomas Briggs on the commuter train from Fenchurch Street that fateful Victorian evening led to a number of security features being introduced on Britain’s railways, including corridors to connect compartments and the emergency stop cord.
The vicious murder also helped to stoke fears of crime on public transport; a deep-rooted concern which has been with us ever since….
Tales From the Terminals: Liverpool Street…. From Bedlam to Kindertransport (Part One)
Having covered the corridor of stations which lie along the Marylebone and Euston road, we now move down into the City and onto one of the capital’s busiest terminals- Liverpool Street Station.
Liverpool Street (the road rather than the station) in its present form dates back to 1829 and is named after Robert Jenkinson; aka Lord Liverpool, a long-serving Prime Minister who was in office between 1812 and 1827.
Lord Liverpool
Liverpool Street is not the first road to provide passage along the route.
The modern road was predated by a lane known as Old Bethlehem; a winding path which had existed for centuries; its name deriving from the fact that Bethlehem Hospital once stood on the ground now occupied by the station.
Bethlehem was no ordinary sanatorium… also known by its more infamous name, Bedlam it was London’s (and the world’s) first psychiatric hospital…
16th Century map (the ‘London Copperplate’) showing the location of Bedlam Hospital. The long, wide road to the right is the present day Bishopsgate; still a major route through the City (image from the Museum of London)
Bethlehem Hospital
The institution, which lay just outside the old city wall, first began caring for the mentally ill (or, as they were known back then, ‘distracted’) patients in 1377.
The term, ‘cared for’ however is grossly inaccurate.
Bethlehem Hospital was a hellish place, where patients were chained to their beds and considered to be no more than wild beasts.
Contemporary sketch of life inside Bedlam…
When heavy irons weren’t enough to keep them under control, patients were whipped or plunged into cold water in fruitless attempts to stifle their madness.
It comes as no surprise therefore that the word ‘Bedlam’- an old corruption of the hospital’s name- has passed into the English language as a phrase denoting a place of utter chaos and despair.
In 1676, the hospital moved a few hundred yards to Moorfields (where Finsbury Circus now lies), just across the road from where Liverpool Street station is now situated.
Original map showing the location of the second Bedlam Hospital which was located where the present day Finsbury Circus now lies
Designed by Robert Hooke, who was Sir Christopher Wren’s right-hand man, the new building was a very grand affair indeed.
The second, grander Bedlam Hospital- the broad road in front is London Wall
The gates to the new asylum were presided over by two large sculptures; Madness and Melancholy.
Crafted by Caius Gabriel Cibber (who also created the impressive relief at the base of The Monument) the two statues are now held in the Bethlem Royal Hospital archives in Beckenham and can be seen in this following short clip from the BBC4 series, Romancing the Stone: The Golden Ages of British Sculpture:
It was within the new Bethlehem hospital that the notorious- and highly profitable-practice of inviting the public to come along and gawp at the patients first began.
Special galleries were incorporated into the building’s design for the purpose; small arenas where the patients were paraded like creatures in a menagerie.
An idea of what this process looked like can be garnered from William Hogarth’s innovative series of paintings, The Rake’s Progress.
Produced between 1732-33, Hogarth’s masterpiece consists of eight artworks which chronicle the decline and fall of Tom Rakewell, a young man who, after coming to London, is seduced by gambling, partying and prostitution.
Tom’s binge inevitably ruins him and, in the final picture, Hogarth portrays the Rake’s tragic demise as he succumbs to madness, his final days spent languishing in the pandemonium that is Bedlam whilst fan-fluttering ladies of high society look on…
The Rake’s Progress, William Hogarth (1730s)
If you wish to see original Rake’s Progress, it can be found within the wonderful Sir John Soames Museum at Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
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In 1815, Bethlehem Hospital moved out of the area for good, establishing a new home south of the Thames in Lambeth. During the move, patients were transferred to the new hospital in a fleet of specially chartered Hackney carriages.
Today, the Lambeth asylum is still in existence… although the building now serves a different purpose- it is home to the Imperial War Museum… where illness afflicting the mind has been swapped for the insanity of modern warfare…
The third Bedlam… now the Imperial War Museum
The Railways Move In
The first station to arrive in the Liverpool Street area was the now vanished Broad Street, which opened in 1865 and remained in service until 1986 (an earlier post all about this former station can be found here).
Liverpool Street Station followed a few years later, opening next door to Broad Street in 1874 as the London terminal for the Great Eastern Railway.
Before their grand station opened, the Great Eastern had operated a smaller terminus just outside the City boundaries called ‘Bishopsgate’, which opened in 1840 on the junction of Shoreditch High Street and Bethnal Green Road.
Bishopsgate Station; the prelude to the Liverpool Street terminal (photo: Subterranea Britannica)
The site remained in use as a freight depot until December 1964, when it burnt down. Today, the location is once again in use by the railways, with the London Overground’s recently opened Shoreditch High Street station occupying the former derelict land.
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The architect behind Liverpool Street station was Edward Wilson; a Scotsman who was born in Edinburgh and was the Great Eastern’s chief engineer.
Liverpool Street in 1896 (photo: Wikipedia)
As regular users of Liverpool Street will know, the tracks actually lie below street level and one must descend stairs or escalators to reach their desired platform.
Liverpool Street’s two levels can be seen here- the balcony is at street height whilst the lower concourse, where trains arrive and depart, is below ground.
The reason for this is that the platforms were originally designed to provide a seamless link with the London Underground’s Metropolitan line.
At the time, The Great Eastern was a business partner of the new-fangled underground railway, so a smooth link-up with the subterranean system was considered to be financially beneficial.
Original emblems of former business partners, the Great Eastern and Metropolitan railways
In order to achieve this connection, the Great Eastern had to plough their tracks into Liverpool Street down a steep gradient, sending trains on their last leg steaming and groaning through a complex of dingy tunnels; a dismal approach to the metropolis which is still in use today.
The partnership between the two companies was eventually severed, and the novel set-up was condemned by Lord Salisbury- one of the Great Eastern’s chairmen- as being “one of the greatest mistakes ever committed in connection with a railway.”
The Great Eastern Hotel
In 1884, a grand hotel- The Great Eastern was added to the station which, for many years, was surprisingly the only hotel in the historic square mile.
The Great Eastern Hotel (now the ‘Andaz’)
The Great Eastern Hotel was designed by Charles E. Barry (Junior), son of Charles Barry (Senior) who was one of London’s greatest architects; the brains behind landmarks such as Trafalgar Square’s precient and the Houses of Parliament.
Charles Barry Junior was very much a chip off the old block, his design for the Great Eastern Hotel being very grand indeed.
Early 20th Century advert for the Great Eastern Hotel (image from the National Railway Museum)
When it opened, the hotel boasted a glass-domed roof and no fewer than two Masonic temples.
A siding from the station was extended to reach beneath the hotel, creating a service area from where trains could take away the hotel’s waste and haul in coal to keep the well-heeled guests nice and toasty.
The Great Eastern Hotel also boasted seawater baths, the sloshing liquid being brought in from the coast by goods trains.
Speaking of water, when The Great Eastern Hotel was being constructed, it was impossible to lay down sewerage pipes due to the tunnels of the London Underground’s Metropolitan line being in the way.
As a result, the hotel had to improvise… resulting in a vacuum-flush system being designed, which to this day sees waste being sent rushing upwards! Probably best not to think about it whilst resting on your hotel bed!..
Today, the hotel- which was refurbished between 1997-2000 at a cost of £65 million- has been renamed The Andaz and is still an extremely lavish destination boasting five restaurants.
If you can’t afford a night or two at this lavish destination, the hotel is often open for public viewing during the excellent Open House weekend.
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Notable Passengers
It was at Liverpool Street Station, one morning during the summer of 1886, that Joseph Merrick- aka ‘The Elephant Man’ was mobbed by a ferociously nosy, rush-hour crowd.
Prior to this incident, Joseph had been in Belgium where his famous deformities were pedalled in a travelling ‘freak show’.
However, by the late 1880s, such exhibitions were in decline and, seeing Joseph as a financial burden, the Elephant Man’s manager abandoned his protégé, stealing Joseph’s life savings to boot.
Penniless, frightened and alone, Joseph eventually managed to secure passage on a ferry to Harwich and, once arriving in the port, he boarded a train to London’s Liverpool Street.
Once at the busy station, his shuffling gait, oversized cloak and canvas hood quickly drew attention and within moments, Joseph was swamped by baying spectators; a nightmarish echo of the days when Bedlam existed on the site.
The terrifying event was included in the 1980 film, The Elephant Man, starring John Hurt. The scene was filmed on location at Liverpool Street itself:
Following this incident, Joseph was rescued by two policemen and taken by Hackney carriage to the Royal London Hospital where he would spend the rest of his tragically short life.
I have devoted two earlier posts to Joseph Merrick’s life and his time in London elsewhere on this website- to read please follow the links to part one here and part two here.
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Thanks to its close links with Harwich port, Liverpool Street was also responsible for introducing some of the 20th century’s most famous left-wing political figures to London- namely the communists, Maxim Gorky, Rosa Luxemburg, Leon Trotsky (who famously suffered a nasty death when he was murdered with an ice-pick)… and the terrifying future tyrant, Joseph Stalin.
(From left to right) Maxim Gorky, Leon Trotsky, Rosa Luxemburg and and a young Joseph Stalin who arrived together in London via Liverpool Street Station
It was in 1907 that this as yet unknown group of communists travelled to London in order to attend a political conference.
In a way, it was also a spiritual journey, as their communist ideology was born in London, formulated by Karl Marx who resided in the slums of Soho and sought refuge with his writing in the British Library.
At Liverpool Street, the red-bunch were met by a small group of journalists and supporters, along with another famous party-member… comrade Vladimir Lenin who was already in London.
Upon greeting his comrades, Lenin announced that he was pleased they could come along for the event, and that they could expect a “fine old scuffle.”
Vladimir Lenin, who welcomed his Russian comrades at Liverpool street in the early 20th century
The young Stalin… the future dictator who would go onto wreak so much death and misery upon his own people, did not have far to travel from Liverpool Street to his new digs… he spent his time in London at a doss house on Fieldgate Street in Whitechapel, just over half a mile from the station… but that of course, is another story altogether…
Please click here for Part Two
Tales From the Terminals: Liverpool Street…. From Bedlam to Kindertransport (Part Two)
Liverpool Street at War
As with its former neighbour, Broad Street- which suffered at the hands of a zeppelin airship in 1915- Liverpool Street Station was the victim of enemy bombing during the First World War, with a devastating attack taking place in May 1917.
By this point the German military had realised that their airships, with their cumbersome and vulnerable nature, were no longer effective for carrying out air-raids over London.
With this in mind, they switched to smaller aircraft- the Gotha Bombers.
A Gotha Bomber; the make of aircraft which unleashed an early air-raid on Liverpool Street in 1917
With their speed and manoeuvrability, these craft proved far more deadly.
When a squadron of Gothas attacked Liverpool Street during the 1917 assault, they unleashed a lethal flurry of bombs, killing 162 people.
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Four years after WWI, in 1922, a large memorial was installed at Liverpool Street Station as a solemn tribute to the many employees of the Great Eastern Railway who had perished during the devastating conflict.
WWI Memorial at Liverpool Street (photo: Wikipedia)
This memorial was unveiled at midday on June 22nd 1922 by Sir Henry Wilson, a 58 year old politician who had served in WWI as one of Britain’s most senior officers.
Sir Henry Wilson
Once the ceremony was over, Sir Wilson hailed a taxi, the destination being his home on Eaton Square… however, he never made it.
Lying in wait at the Belgravia address were Reginald Dunne and Joseph O’Sullivan; two members of the Irish Republican Army who were reputedly unhappy with the terms of the Anglo-Irish Treaty which had been signed six months before (coincidentally, the treaty had been signed at 22 Hans Place, a short walk from Sir Wilson’s home) .
From their vantage point, Dunne and O’Sullivan waited for Sir Wilson to pay the cabbie and then, as their target mounted the steps to his front door, the pair dashed forward, shooting the former Field-Marshall several times.
Sir Henry Wilson died on his doorstep, the murder causing chaos and outrage. His killers were both quickly caught, and executed at Wandsworth prison a few months later.
WWII and the Kindertransport
Liverpool Street’s finest hour occurred during the prelude to WWII, when the London terminal played a vital role in shepherding 1,000s of Jewish refugees- all of whom were children- to safety.
This process was known as the Kindertransport.
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Ever since Hitler had seized power in 1933, Jews had been subject to persecution.
However, on the 10th November 1938, the Nazi’s hatred exploded dramatically and violently with the horrendous Kristallnacht; the ‘night of broken glass.’
A Synagogue burns on Kristallnacht, 1938
During the span of one evening, 267 synagogues, 7,500 Jewish businesses and 1,000s more Jewish homes were targeted, with Nazi thugs smashing windows and daubing anti-Semitic graffiti.
Arson was carried out on a huge scale, with many Jewish premises destroyed outright. A number of Jews were killed, whilst many more were rounded up and arrested.
Jews being rounded up in the aftermath of Kristallnacht
Following this night of horror, the Kindertransport concept was quickly conceived and put into action.
After getting the nod from then Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, certain immigration laws were suspended, thus allowing Jewish youngsters under the Nazi jackboot to enter the UK in large groups rather than waste precious time in applying individually.
In all, around 10,000 children found shelter in the UK under the system and every single one of them passed through Liverpool Street Station.
Plaque belonging to one of Liverpool Street’s Kindertransport memorials
The first group arrived just three weeks after Kristallnacht- 196 little ones whose Jewish orphanage had been callously destroyed by the Nazis.
Two Kindertransport refugees, photographed on a ferry bound for Harwich
The young refugees came to the UK by ship, landing in Harwich. From there, they boarded special steam-trains to London, where they would be introduced to their kindly guardians at Liverpool Street Station.
The process brought both salvation and utter heart-break.
Although the youngsters found safe-harbour, the vast majority would never see their parents again as the families they were torn from fell victim to the perils of war, concentration camps and gas-chambers.
Mankind at its worst…. a Star of David patch which Jews under the Nazi regime were required to wear upon their clothes
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Today, the Kindertransport’s life-line is commemorated at Liverpool Street by two sculptures.
The first, which is tucked away on the station’s bustling concourse, was originally unveiled in 2003 and is dedicated to the Quakers, whose campaign was vital in instigating and implementing the Kindertransport.
This poignant statue is twinned with similar artworks at Prague’s Hlavni Nadrazi Station and Vienna’s Westbannhof Station, both of which served as departure points for the evacuating children.
Kindertransport statue in Prague; cousin to Liverpool Street’s memorial
On 21st May 2011, a ceremony was held in which Liverpool Street’s subtle memorial was rededicated by a very special man… Sir Nicholas Winton- who is represented as the bespectacled chap holding the small child in the Prague statue above.
‘Nicky’ Winton in the late 1930s
Sir Nicholas- a Londoner, born in Hampstead in 1909- played a huge role in the Kindertransport, single-handedly organising the evacuation of 669 Jewish children from Czechoslovakia.
His amazing feat, which was carried out from a makeshift office set up in a Prague hotel room, has resulted in him being dubbed Britain’s answer to Oskar Schindler.
In 2011, a documentary film- Nicky’s Family– was made, chronicling Sir Nicholas’s efforts and the subsequent influence his humanity has had upon others.
The trailer for this moving film can be viewed in the following clip:
A humble man, Sir Nicholas didn’t speak about the immense role he’d played in saving so many youngsters from the evils of Nazism for several decades.
Things came to light again in the late 1980s when his wife, Greta discovered Nicholas’ note-books in the attic; the very books and paperwork which he’d used to administer the large scale evacuation.
Greta approached the BBC, who managed to track down 80 of those whose name appeared in the book and, in 1988, Sir Nicholas was invited onto the show, That’s Life to discuss the Kindertransport.
What the great man didn’t know as he sat in the audience was that he was surrounded by a large group of the now fully-grown up children whom he’d saved 50 years previously, all of whom would have started their new lives at Liverpool Street Station.
The following clip demonstrates what happened next….
In 2009, to mark the 70th anniversary of the Kindertransport, the lifeline’s route was re-created, with specially chartered steam locomotives linking up the stages across Europe.
The carriages, which were hauled by vintage trains, carried many of the surviving (and now very much grown up!) refugees, who had fled tyranny so many years before.
Younger guests were also invited to join the special ride, giving them the opportunity to chat to the former Kindertransport children about their tragic stories and experiences.
The final leg of the emotional event- Harwich to London- was hauled by the Winton Train; named in honour of Sir Nicholas.
The fantastic engine can be viewed in the following clip, as it thunders towards Liverpool Street on the memorial day:
Sir Nicholas Winton is still alive today; going strong and looking amazingly well at the grand old age of 103.
A true inspiration.
Sir Nicholas Winton at Liverpool Street in 2011
Sir Nicholas can be seen in a BBC news report from 2011, which details the re-dedication of Liverpool Street’s first Kindertransport memorial. Please click here to view the clip.
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The second Kindertransport memorial at Liverpool Street Station can be found just outside one of the entrances, standing on a relatively peaceful area which has been named ‘Hope Square’.
Hope Square Memorial, Liverpool Street
Unveiled in 2006 by Prince Charles, the sculpture was created by Frank Meisler- who himself was a Kindertransport refugee, arriving from the Polish city, Gdansk in 1939.
Frank’s Liverpool Street sculpture is actually part of a series, having three counterparts across Europe which chronicle the route of the Kindertransport.
The other sculptures can be found at Gdansk station in Poland, Berlin’s Friedrichstrasse station (which also commemorates the many more unfortunate youngsters who boarded more sinister trains to the death camps) and Rotterdam; the port from where the children would depart for the assured safety of England…
Kindertransport memorial at Gdansk, Poland
Kindertransport memorial, Berlin… ”Children on the Train to Death and Children on the Train to life’ (Photo: Wikipedia)
Kindertransport memorial, Rotterdam… the departure point for England (photo: Frank Meisler)
The Blitz and a challenge to authority
Once WWII was fully underway the Kindertransports were forced to cease… and, in 1940, Hitler unleashed his fury on London with the nightly Blitz.
Once the regular air-raids commenced, many Londoners considered the London Underground- with its exceptionally deep tunnels- to be a natural place in which to seek shelter.
The government however had other ideas.
They feared that allowing people to shelter on the tube would result in a ‘bunker mentality’- in other words, they believed that once the shelterers were down on the platforms, they wouldn’t want to come back up ever again, becoming subterranean dwellers!
As such, official policy was that the Underground was for transportation only; anyone attempting to stay for the night would be moved on.
On the 8th September 1940, an event at Liverpool Street station would result in this policy being re-considered…
It was a Sunday evening when the air-raid sirens kicked in and the drone of enemy bombers could be heard approaching…. Eager to get under cover, large groups of residents from Spitalfields dashed towards nearby Liverpool Street, aiming to head for the station’s deep Central Line platforms.
Once there, the crowd found the entrance to the tube barred and gated; shielded by armed troops who were under orders to enforce the government’s no-shelter on the tube policy.
The spirited East-Enders took no time in deciding that this blockade just would not do … and by sheer force of numbers, they managed to disable the barricade, barging their way through and pouring down to the deep platforms, mounting what we today would most probably label a ‘sit-down protest.’
Overwhelmed, the authorities quickly realised that the ban on sheltering on the underground was unworkable and the following day, the Minister for Home Security did a U-turn, announcing that the public were in fact more than welcome to spend the night on the tube if they so wished.
Londoners sheltering at Liverpool Street Underground during the Blitz (photo: Museum of London)
Following this change of heart, the government’s paranoid predictions of bunker mentality were proved wrong.
People sheltered in the tube by night, but were more than happy to leave the following morning…. If anything, they were probably glad of the fresh air after being stuck deep below ground for hours in stuffy, smelly and downright uncomfortable conditions.
Nor was the tube always safe- on several occasions, many civilians were killed by direct hits on stations, with explosions at Balham and Bank being particularly catastrophic.
The following clip is taken from the end of the 1941 short film, Christmas Under Fire, which was shown in American cinemas and depicts the conditions endured by Londoners who opted to shelter on the tube during the Blitz:
Liverpool Street Today
Despite being one of London’s busiest and most illustrious stations, Liverpool Street gradually sunk into a gloomy, decrepit state during the second half of the 20th century.
In 1986, Liverpool Street’s neighbour, Broad Street was demolished and a fresh, modern development of offices, restaurants and public spaces known as ‘Broadgate’ rapidly sprung up to fill the void.
Part of this complex spilled over towards Liverpool Street; namely the impressive ‘Exchange Square’, which is constructed on a vast raft, perched over the subterranean tracks leading into the station; a set-up which invites an interesting perspective of Liverpool Street’s Victorian architecture.
Liverpool Street Station, seen from Exchange Square
Popular with city-workers on their lunch break, Exchange Square is dotted with small cafes and eateries… and a wide array of public artworks, the largest of which is the ‘Broadgate Venus’:
Broadgate Venus
Weighing 5 tons, the Broadgate Venus was installed in 1990, its creator being Mr Fernando Botero, a Columbian artist who originally trained as a bull-fighter! Fernando’s work is very distinctive in that his subjects often appear tubby- his 1959 re-imagining of the Mona Lisa being a good demonstration of his style!
Fernando Botero’s Mona Lisa
The Future and reminders of the Past
Today, Liverpool Street continues to grow thanks to its role in the new Crossrail project; an express subway which will link the capital to a number of commuter towns stretching from Essex to Berkshire.
Deep beneath Liverpool Street, a large interchange is currently being constructed to serve the new route; a true feat of engineering which requires hefty piles to be ploughed 130ft into the ground.
Artist’s impression of Liverpool Street’s Crossrail entrance
Whilst excavations have been taking place, a large number of human skeletons have been unearthed, many of which lay only a few feet below the surface as generations of commuters trudged overhead…
A former inmate of the Bedlam Psychiatric Hospital, which once stood on Liverpool Street (photo: Crossrail)
These skeletons, which have been receiving the utmost care and attention in their removal, belong to former inmates of the Bedlam lunatic asylum; the site of the excavations marking the old hospital’s burial ground.
Archaeologists on the project have confirmed that the remains of 4,000 souls lie in this compact area, and it is hoped these sad collections of bones will give historians more insight into the lives of those who were ‘treated’ at the horrendous institution.
As this London terminal expands to meet the needs of the 21st century, these once long-forgotten skeletons are a sober reminder of Liverpool Street’s darker past.
View from the Mirror 