Last Saturday I visited what is, in my opinion, the most extraordinary pub in the City, the Blackfriar …
It’s a tall, narrow, wedge shaped treat of a building squeezed in between two roads and a railway bridge.
A jolly, corpulent friar embodies the name of the place …
He harks back to the Dominican monastery that once stood on the site before the Dissolution of the 16th century saw it sold off or leased to weathy merchants.
You get a sense of how extraordinary this pub is before you even enter. Here the cellarer carries wine along with the keys to his domain …
Inspecting the day’s catch whilst either side friars tuck in to pie and cheese…
More carvings to make you smile …
Intricate brass signage …
And all this before you even go in the door.
And when you do, what a sight awaits.
Friars going about their daily lives. Harvesting on Saturday afternoon …
Above the bar, a bronze bas-relief entitled Tomorrow will be Friday depicts them catching trout and eels …
Singing carols …
You can dine in the cosy Grotto which was excavated from the railway vault. There are various sayings and mottos to amuse and enlighten you. HASTE IS SLOW, FINERY IS FOOLERY …
And my two favourites, A GOOD THING IS SOON SNATCHED UP with a grinning friar pushing a pig in a wheelbarrow …
I also like DON’T ADVERTISE TELL A GOSSIP …
Note the two devils. There are four in each corner of the room amusing themselves with an entertaining pastime – these two are play-acting and painting.
Admire the mosaic ceiling and observe the friar on the left …
He’s stuffing his face with food thereby representing one of the seven deadly sins – gluttony …
Five more sins are represented but for some reason ‘lust’ has been omitted.
More monks work hard supporting lamp shades …
There’s a lovely stained glass window depicting a friar working at dawn in a sunlit garden. Many people comment on his pointy, Mr Spock-type ears …
You will find a very informative and interesting history of the pub and the craftsmen who helped create its unique environment here in the excellent Victorian Web blog. I also strongly recommend this article by Jane Peyton which points out other aspects of the decoration that I have not mentioned. Read more about the City monasteries and in particular the Blackfriars in my blog on the subject which you can find here.
I’ve eaten here in the Grotto many times over the years and the food (especially the fish and chips) has always been good. If you visit, raise a glass to Sir John Betjeman and others who campaigned to save this building from demolition in the 1960s. It is now Grade II* listed and so should be safe from future vandals.
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For this expedition I got off the train at Aldgate and walked east along Whitechapel High Street.
The area is being transformed out of all recognition with massive refurbishment and redevelopment taking place on the south side. The north side of the street, however, still has its narrow cobbled alleys and iconic places like the Whitechapel Gallery.
The first alley I came across had no name but held the promise of some street art …
I wasn’t disappointed …
This next alley does have a name and is the home of a delightful project …
Look at these brilliant illustrations referencing the local area …
And it stretches right across the arched roof …
I see capitalist consumption alongside anarchist freedom just before I head down Angel Alley …
Freedom – a light at the end of the tunnel …
Some wall postings along the way …
The Freedom Press was founded way back in 1888 and this is their bookshop …
The wall of heroes …
Appropriate merchandise is available on their website …
Back on the High Street, I don’t recall seeing one of these before …
Then one comes to a wonderful institution, The Whitechapel Art Gallery. It grew from the high-minded vision of the Reverend Samuel Barnett and his social reformer wife Henrietta. They believed that art would lift the spirits of the East End poor, counteracting the ‘paralysing and degrading sights of our streets’. It was opened in 1901 and designed by the brilliant architect Charles Harrison Townsend …
The Gallery’s history is a history of firsts: in 1939 Picasso’s masterpiece, Guernica was displayed there on its first and only visit to Britain; in 1958 the Gallery presented the first major show in Britain of seminal American abstract expressionist Jackson Pollock; and in 1970 and 1971 the first shows of David Hockney, Gilbert & George and Richard Long were staged to great acclaim.
Turning now to the classic Art Nouveau building itself, the rectangular space between the turrets was originally intended to be covered with a mosaic frieze, but this proved too expensive. In 2012, however, the acclaimed artist Rachel Whiteread created a beautiful substitute. The work was Whiteread’s first ever permanent public commission in the UK.
The Gallery’s towers each feature a Tree of Life. Their brochure explains that, for this new work of art, Whiteread has cast their leaves in bronze to create an exhilarating flurry across the frieze. Four reliefs, casts of windows, stand as reminders of previous architectural interventions. Inspired by the tenacious presence of urban plants like buddlea, which the artist calls ‘Hackney weed’, Whiteread has covered the leaves and branches in gold leaf, making them part of London’s rooftop repertoire of gilded angels, heraldic animals and crests.
Apart from visiting the Gallery, there are other advertised opportunities to better yourself …
Crossing to the south side of the road, I was fascinated by this old house and its wooden shutters …
It has an 18th century look about it but I haven’t been able to find out more.
And finally to this little park …
Formerly known as St Mary’s Park, it is the site of the old 14th-century white church, St Mary Matfelon, from which the area of Whitechapel gets its name. This is its 17th century incarnation …
All that now remains of the old church is the floor plan .
The area was renamed Altab Ali Park in 1998 in memory of Altab Ali, a 25-year-old Bangladeshi Sylheti clothing worker. He was murdered on 4 May 1978 in Adler Street by three teenage boys as he walked home from work. Ali’s murder was one of the many racist attacks that came to characterise the East End at that time.
At the entrance to the park is an arch created by David Petersen. It was developed as a memorial to Altab and other victims of racist attacks. The arch incorporates a complex Bengali-style pattern, meant to show the merging of different cultures in east London …
A few grave markers from the old church have survived. This one (belonging to the Maddock family) is very grand, with its button-lidded top, the tomb ‘looks exactly like an enormous soup-tureen for a family of giants with a rather pretentious taste in crockery’ …
For more information I turned to the Spitalfields Life blog and an entry by the historian Gillian Tindall. She writes: ‘The Maddocks … were prosperous timber merchants just off Cable St. Into the tomb, between 1774 and 1810, went Nathan Maddock and his wife Elizabeth, both only in middle life, a daughter of thirteen, a sister-in-law of twenty-five, and her son when he was seventeen. It is a relief to find that Richard Maddock (who did not actually live in Whitechapel any longer but grandly in St James) was seventy when he died, and his sister seventy-nine. A James Maddock died aged nineteen, but that same year another James in the same family was negotiating the deeds of land in the area on which he intended to build and he appears to have lived so long that the tomb was full before it could accommodate him’.
These markers are more modest …
Finally, there’s a very impressive water fountain alongside the park …
The inscription says it was ‘removed from the church railings and erected on present site AD 1879’ …
It was great to still find some character in this area despite the wholesale redevelopment.
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I took advantage of a sunny afternoon to inspect more closely the fascinating architecture I had often observed on St John Street. It’s an ancient route, described in 1170 as the street ‘which goeth from the bar of Smithfield towards Yseldon [Islington]’. This is the earliest known documentary reference to the street, which later became known simply as ‘Clerkenwell Streete’. Its present name is taken from the adjacent priory of St John, established by the Knights Hospitallers in the twelfth century.
You can see it here on the Agas Map of 1561 (as reprinted and modified in 1633) …
Starting my walk at the Smithfield Market end the first buildings I encountered were numbers 1 and 3-5 (EC1M 4AA). The sunlight showed them off to great effect …
The ‘Venetian’ style Number 1 appears to have been built in the mid-1880s for the charmingly named Frederick Goodspeed, a grocer who had acquired, and briefly ran, an old coffeehouse on the site.
My camera couldn’t do justice to the decorations on numbers 3-5 so I have borrowed this image from British History Online …
The building was constructed in 1897 for William Harris the ‘Sausage King’, sausage manufacturer and proprietor of a well-known restaurant chain specialising in sausage and mash. Faced in brick with stone dressings, it shows Arts-and-Crafts and Art Nouveau influence; the south front rises to an ornate gable decorated in relief with a wild boar, Harris’s name and the date. Here’s one of his promotional leaflets aimed at ‘City Clerks and others’…
The Victorians loved an eccentric and he obliged, whether it be by dressing entirely inappropriately for his job (opera hat, dinner suit and cravat with diamond pin) or riding a pig from Brighton to London (with the words ‘tomorrow’s sausages’ written cruelly on its back).
Harris’s registered trademark was a colour picture of himself riding a huge pig to victory in the ‘Pork Sausage Derby’ …
Harris in full self-promotion mode …
One anecdote tells of the time when he was visiting Brighton and a tramp ran off with a string of sausages from one of William’s shops. The thief was caught, and was challenged to a sausage-eating contest – if the tramp won he could go free. A huge crowd gathered to watch; when William delightedly won (by four sausages) he gave the tramp a sovereign and his freedom.
William ‘No. 1’ Harris, as he styled himself, lived over the shop at with his family including sons William ‘No. 2’ (Prince of Sausages) and William ‘Nos. 3 and 4’. His firm, William Harris & Son, remained here until the late 1950s or early 60s.
Number 7 was the scene of a tragedy. The so-called Clerkenwell Cinema Fire occurred in the Dream City ‘adult cinema’ (also known as the ‘New City Cinema’) on 26 February 1994. Due to the pornographic nature of the films it screened, and the strict cinema licensing regulations in London at the time, the cinema was operating illegally, and thus was not subject to fire inspections as legal entertainment venues were …
The fire was caused by arson when a deaf, homeless man called David Lauwers (known to his friends as ‘Deaf Dave’) lost a fight with a doorman over entry fees. After being ejected from the cinema, Lauwers returned with a can of petrol and set fire to the entrance area. The fire took hold rapidly, trapping most of the staff and patrons within. Eight men died at the scene, seven from smoke inhalation and one from injuries sustained from jumping from a high window in the building, and there were three further fatalities in the following months in hospital, as well as thirteen injuries. Lauwers was later given a life sentence.
You can read a dramatic recounting of what happened that night in this blog by a Retired London Fireman.
On the left, the building today …
Numbers 69-73 consist essentially of two houses built in 1817–18, originally separated by the entry to a large yard, where warehousing was later built …
British History Online tells us that Number 69 appears to retain its original façade, but the other house has been refronted; this may have been done in 1896 when it was extended over the alley and the two houses thrown into one, together with the cork-warehouses at the rear, which had been partly rebuilt following a fire in 1882. The treatment of the ground floor at No. 69, with arched openings and Ionic pilasters, executed in stucco, is the remnant of a remodelling of the whole ground-floor front of probably carried out in the mid-nineteenth century. The present shopfront at No. 73 dates from 1884, though it has been altered in recent years.
Number 57 was once the White Bear pub dating from 1899 …
Now closed, it looks like a Covid victim.
At 115-121, this block of tenements and shops belongs to the select group of public housing schemes designed by the LCC Architect’s Department in the 1890s and early 1900s in an Arts-and Crafts or ‘English Domestic’ idiom …
Built in 1904–6, Mallory Buildings stands on part of the site of the medieval priory of St John, relics of which were discovered during the excavation for the foundations. The name commemorates Robert Mallory, one of the former priors.
Numbers 159–173 once housed Pollard’s Shopfitting works with construction being carried out in 1925–7. The new building contained showrooms, offices, workshops and stores. On the fourth floor were the main administrative offices, and the boardroom, panelled in Italian walnut with Ionic pilasters …
Black granite was used to frame the bronze entrance doors …
Founded in 1895 by Edward Pollard, Pollards held the English patents for the American invention ‘invisible glass’, used in shopfronts. This employs steeply curved concave glass to deflect light towards matt black ‘baffles’ so that no reflections show in the window. The company installed invisible-glass windows in several important London stores, including Simpsons of Piccadilly (now Waterstones), where they remain intact as well as at Fox’s Umbrellas on London Wall (now a wine bar) …
In 1967 the Pollard Group relocated to Basingstoke and the business continues today as Pollards Fyrespan, now in Enfield. The former Clerkenwell works are now used as offices and small-business workshops.
Three old houses survive at numbers 181–185 …
Finally, at numbers 223-227 you can look up and see the name Ingersoll picked out in green and cream mosaic. The factory was built in the 1930s for property speculator Gilbert Waghorn. Before it was completed, Ingersoll agreed to move in and so the architect, Gilbert’s brother Stanley Waghorn, modified slightly the parapet on the St John Street façade to incorporate the logo …
The Ingersoll Watch Company grew out of a mail order business started in New York City in 1882 by 21-year-old Robert Hawley Ingersoll and his brother Charles Henry Ingersoll. When they added the one-dollar watch to their catalogue, the business really took off. Millions were sold and they cheekily boasted it was …
In 1904 they opened a store in London and in 1905 Robert sailed to England and introduced the Crown pocket watch for 5 shillings, which was the same value as $1 at the time (four dollars to the pound – those were the days!) …
Business boomed even more when they won the contract to produce Mickey Mouse watches for Disney …
Ingersoll went bankrupt during the recession that followed World War I. It was purchased by the Waterbury Clock Company (now the Timex Group USA) shortly after for 1.5 million dollars. Today they are owned by Zeon Watches, a British subsidiary of the Chinese company, Herald Group. They are still distributing Ingersoll watches in more than 50 countries around the world.
I will be returning to St John Street again in a future blog. In the meantime, perhaps you can imagine how this narrow thoroughfare got its name?
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