Tickets for my final Southbank walk until next summer: The South Bank – Marsh, Industry, Culture and the Festival of Britain, on the 20th of October, are now available by clicking here.

I am back in Soho for this week’s post, continuing my exploration of Soho pubs, including one that claims to be “the West End’s best known pub”, and that “it’s a deeply loved London institution with a rich history”.

The pub with these claims will be later in the post, and is one of many fascinating and individual pubs to be found across part of London which, along with the City, has the highest density of pubs, and where drinking has been embedded in the culture of the place.

Today’s tour starts with:

The Crown and Two Chairmen – Dean Street

The Crown and Two Chairmen is one of the more unusual London pub names. The building we see today dates from 1929, however there has been a pub on the site since 1736 when it was called just the Crown.

The story about the change of name to the Crown and Two Chairmen is that two sedan chair men who were taking Queen Anne to have her portrait painted by Sir James Thornhill, who apparently had his studio in the area, would call at the pub for a drink.

One of the places where this story was put forward was an article in the Sporting Life on the 3rd of November 1926 on historic pubs, where the following was written about the Crown and Two Chairmen, as one of the oldest-established hostelries in the West End:

“It is the only inn of the name in London, and is said to derive its title from the fact that the bearers of Queen Anne’s chair were wont to beguile their time there while Her Majesty was sitting for her portrait to Sir James Thornhill, who lived in the house opposite. This house, No. 74, is still standing next door to the Royalty Theatre.

The Crown and Two Chairmen is probably the tavern mentioned by George Augustus Sala as the one in which he first saw Thackeray. The house was kept by one Dick Moreland, supposed to have been the last landlord in London to wear a pigtail and top-boots, and a small club was held upstairs.”

The problem with this story is that Queen Anne died in 1714, twenty two years before the original pub seems to have been built. The change in name was probably to separate the pub from another pub with the same original name, the Crown in Brewer Street.

I cannot find exactly when the pub changed name, the earliest reference I can find is from August 1811, when the landlord of the pub was unwittingly involved with handling a stolen £10 note. In this reference, the pub had the name of Crown and Two Chairmen.

Whether or not the Queen Anne reference is correct, the pub has one of the more unusual names in London.

The Dog and Duck – Bateman Street

So many London pubs are on the corner of two streets. This makes sense as a corner location stands out far more than within a terrace. Potential customers walking along multiple streets can see the pub, however it does cause confusion with the address of a pub. What street should apply?

Taking the Dog and Duck, the longest side of the building, with three upper floor window bays is on Bateman Street, and this is the street used in the address of the pub, however, searching for references to the pub, Frith Street is used just as many times as Bateman Street, and Frith Street has by far the shortest side of the pub, with just a single window bay.

As an example, the building is Grade II listed, and in the Historic England listing, Bateman Street is given as the address of the pub in the header to the entry, however Frith Street is used in the entry detail.

The listing states that that Dog and Duck was built in 1897, and designed by Francis Chambers for the Cannon Brewery. The interior of the pub is “an exceptional survival of a small late Victorian pub interior with tile work, mirrors and high-quality joinery”.

Although the current pub building dates from 1897, it was built on the site of an early 18th century pub with the same name. The earliest reference I can find to the pub dates from the 17th of July, 1752, and reads: “On Tuesday, about Five o’clock in the afternoon, as Lieutenant-Colonel Demarr, of Col. Holmes’s late Regiment of Marines was going along Thrift Street, Soho, he was suddenly taken ill, and went into the Dog and Duck Alehouse, where a Surgeon was sent for to bleed him, but to no purpose, for he expired in a short time.”

The spelling of the street as Thrift Street in the above article must have been an error, as the name Frith Street appears on maps in the 17th century and onwards.

In 2003, newspapers were reporting that the pop star Madonna was a visitor to the Dog and Duck, and that “The ‘Material Girl’ told how she had developed a taste for Landlord at the Dog and Duck in London’s Soho, where it has been sold for about 10 years. her revelation on Jonathan Ross’s BBC talk show has caused a flurry of media activity and now the Campaign for Real Ale are claiming bitter is back in Vogue”.

A nice touch with exterior decoration to the pub is that on the corner of the pub, where there should be a window on the third floor is the following relief showing a dog with a duck in its mouth:

The French House – Dean Street

The pub has had the formal name of the French House for a relatively short period of time, it was originally called the York Minster.

Another example of being careful with sources, Wikipedia states that the “pub was opened by a German national named Christian Schmitt in 1891 and traded as York Minster”, however there are plenty of newspaper reports that mention the pub, going back several decades in the 19th century, with the earliest I could find being from 1837 when a horse trotting challenge was being advertised and that the challenge could be backed at the York Minster, Dean Street, Soho.

The French theme to the pub has been around for some time, in parallel to being called the York Minster.

Although an early landlord was a German national, the pub was for long managed by a Belgian national, one Victor Berlemont, who had a son, Gaston Berlemont who was born in the pub in 1914.

Gaston was a British national, who lived in Soho, and served in the RAF, and became the landlord of the York Minister when his father died in 1951. He continued as landlord until retirement, rather appropriately on Bastille Day in 1989.

The pub was popular with the Free French forces during the Second World War and later Gaston promoted a Gallic image for the pub, and long before the change of name, it became known as “The French”.

There are two films of Gaston’s retirement on the 14th of July 1989 on YouTube. Part 1 is here (if received via email, you will need to go to the post on the website here to view):

And part 2 is here:

As can be seen in the above two films, the name of the pub in 1989 was the French House, and the name change had taken place 5 years earlier in 1984 after the fire at the real York Minster, when apparently donations for the repair of the church in York were being received at the pub in Soho, which Gaston did forward to York (and there is a story that wine destined for the pub in Soho reached the real York Minster in York).

The change in name was really just a formality for the pub due to its decades long association with a French influence. For example, in The Tatler on the 28th of January, 1953, the pub was described as follows: “York Minster, Dean Street, opposite bombed St. Anne’s. Upstairs in the small pub there is excellent, plain French cooking to be had most days. It is lucky if you happen to like one of the plats du jour, for they are one of the best bets. You can have wine by the glass and those who favour the drink can watch absinthe dripping into their glass on the zinc downstairs. There is nothing very French-looking about the York Minster (nothing except the period, to remind you of the Toulouse-Lautrec film), but most of the clientele is Soho-French. So is the patron.”

The French influence continues to this day, with the French flags on the front of the pub, and with the menu at the first floor restaurant.

Admiral Duncan – Old Compton Street

The Admiral Duncan in Old Compton Street, known as Soho’s oldest gay pub, was the scene of a bomb attack in 1999, when it was the third London site attacked by the so called at the time “London Nail Bomber”.

Although no one had died in the previous two attacks, the bomb at the Admiral Duncan killed three,. When the attacker was sent for trial, newspapers summarized the accusations: “A 23 year old engineer accused of murdering three people in London nail bombings was committed for trial yesterday at the Old Bailey. **********, of Cove, Hampshire, is accused of murdering Andrea Dykes, John Light and Nicholas Moore in a bomb blast at the Admiral Duncan pub in Soho, central London, on April 30th. He is also accused of three counts of causing an explosion relating to the bombing at Electric Avenue, Brixton, south London, on April 17th, a bombing in the Brick Lane, east London the following Saturday and at Soho on April 30th.”

He should have been charged with four murders as Andrea Dykes was pregnant.

The choice of bomb locations, where minority and vulnerable people were targets gives some indication of the attacker’s motivations as a neo-Nazi, who used bombs packed with nails, designed to cause maximum harm to anyone in the vicinity of the explosion, and many of the 139 injured in the three attacks had horrific injuries.

He told police that he “wanted to be an infamous murderer who started a race war”.

The above newspaper report included his name, however I have deleted it, as people who do this should not have their names remembered (as was his intention), rather they should be consigned to oblivion. He was given 6 life sentences, and hopefully should never be released, although he is eligible for parole in his seventies.

The Admiral Duncan pub seems to date from the early decades of the 19th century, I suspect it was 1826 as the Admiral Duncan was advertising for staff, for example with the following advert from the Morning Advertiser on Thursday 15th of June, 1826: “WANTED in a Public-House a SERVANT of ALL-WORK. A young Woman of good character may apply at the Admiral Duncan, Old Compton-street, Soho.”

The bomb attacks were the result of an individuals hatred and discrimination of other communities, and the above advert of staff in 1826 ended with another example, as it ended with “No Irish person need apply”.

A couple of month later, the Admiral Duncan was advertising for “a SERVANT of ALL-WORK – A young English WOMAN of good character”.

I do not know if this was specific to the landlord of the Admiral Duncan in 1826, as you do not see this type of discrimination that often in adverts for pub staff in the early 19th century.

The pub is named after Admiral Adam Duncan, who was the Admiral in charge of the Royal Navy fleet that defeated the Dutch fleet in the battle of Camperdown (or Camperduin, the Dutch name of the town on the coast of the Netherlands) off where the battle was fought.

The battle was a significant victory, and is ranked as one of the most important actions in the history of the Royal Navy.

Duncan was made a Viscount and received an annual pension of £3,000 as a reward for his success, and there seems to have been a number of pubs given the name of the Admiral Duncan in the first half of the 19th century.

Comptons – Old Compton Street

Comptons in Old Compton Street is another Soho LBGTQ pub, however the current name is relatively recent.

It started out as the Swiss Hotel a private hotel that seems to have catered for the Swiss community as in 1874 is was advertising for “a young Swiss”, who also speaks English. Whether having Swiss staff was to support a Swiss customer base, or as a novelty for English customers is not clear.

It could be the former as a year earlier in 1873, there was an advert placed by a Swiss person who gave the Swiss Hotel as an address, and who was looking for a position as an indoor servant, and among their abilities were listed as being able to speak French, German and Italian, and a little English. The hotel seems to have been a place for those from Switzerland to stay.

The earliest reference to the Swiss Hotel I can find dates from 1871 when there is a record of the license being transferred from James Dennler to Rodolphe Stauffer.

The Survey of London volumes for Soho entry for the Swiss Hotel opens with “This was built in 1890 to the plans of the architects W. A. Williams and Hopton, who exhibited their design in that year at the Royal Academy.”

The Survey of London does not make any mention of the Swiss Hotel as being in Old Compton Street before 1890, however taking newspapers from the 1870s and 1880s, there are mentions of the Swiss Hotel, and 1890 could be a reference to the build of the current building on the site, rather than the institution of the Swiss Hotel.

The last reference to the name Swiss Hotel I could find is from 1969 when it was the site for a large gathering of West End members of the National Association of Theatrical and Kine Employees union.

By 1972 is was known as the Swiss Tavern, and was the home of the Playroom Theatre Club, which was advertised as “A new lunchtime company, has been formed by Jonathan Burn and Alan West at the Swiss Tavern, 53 Old Compton Street, W.1. The aim is to present original and experimental productions, for which applicants are welcomed whether engaged in the evenings or not. Workshop exercises with emphasis not only on the group but on individual expression will be part of the activities. A number of directors, writers, actors designers and technical personnel are already collaborating but a total number of from ten to fourteen is needed.”

One of the productions put on at the Playroom Theatre Club in 1973 attracted much publicity, including the following from the “Entertainment” section of the Marylebone Mercury (excuse the language):

“On the fringe of respectability – THEATRE on the cheap is alive and doing all right in the pubs of Soho. They call it fringe theatre and it certainly is in every way – on the borderline of respectability, like Soho itself, and of bankcrupty.

The Playroom Theatre Club, above the Swiss Tavern pub in Old Compton Street has been going a year almost with productions like ‘Areatha in the Ice Palace’ and ‘Wankers’.

The Swiss Tavern is opposite a sex-movie club, next door to a strip club. No wonder one of the biggest hits by Playroom was ‘Wankers’, which had to be retained for an extra week.

People who think ‘ pornography’ must be awfully disappointed, said producer Judith Wills from Missouri.”

Later in the article, the producers complained that “So far, despite pressure, the Arts Council has refused to help this sort of fringe theatre”, and that this refusal could have been due to being over a pub. There was a number of other fringe theatre groups operating in pubs across Soho.

The Playroom Theatre Group does not seem to have lasted beyond the end of 1973, however the Swiss Tavern continued to be one of the Soho pubs frequented by those in the acting profession.

The name Swiss Tavern disappeared in the 1980s, and by the end of the decade it was known as Compton’s, and in the 1990s, its current identity was well established, as this report from the Scotsman on the 13th of June 1996, illustrates:

“SORRY, but there only is one game in town – England v Scotland on Saturday. It is understood that much of London pubs, clubs and other places of entertainment, plans to close down in spite of Scottish fans having one of the best reputations in world football.

But at least one pub will be open. Compton’s in Old Compton Street run by Stevie and George from Glasgow, will welcome Scots. One thing to remember; it is reputed to be Soho’s best gay pub.”

The Golden Lion – Dean Street

The Survey of London records that the Golden Lion existed in 1728, so this is an old pub, although the building on the site today is a later version of the pub, having been built at the end of the 1920s for the brewer William Younger.

The current version of the Golden Lion does retain a number of features saved from the earlier building, including this rather impressive sun dial from the time before the rebuild when it was known as Ye Golden Lion:

The journalist, author, TV presenter, and Soho drinker, Daniel Farson wrote the book “Soho in the Fifties” about his time in Soho during the decade, the people he met, the pubs restaurants etc. The book contains many of Farson’s photos of life around Soho at the time, and it is a brilliant book for a snapshot of Soho, a Soho that for the most part, has been lost.

He wrote about the Golden lion under the title “The Queer Pubs”:

“In Soho there were two ‘queer pubs’ as they were called then, the Fitzroy off Charlotte Street to the north, and the Golden Lion in Dean Street to the south. Though the Lion was a few doors away from the French, the two pubs had so little in common that they might have been in separate towns. Married couples wandered into the Lion by mistake and left swiftly when they discovered they were surrounded by strange men, or remained, delighted by their chance discovery, but Gaston (at the French) did not encourage stragglers who crossed the frontier for a change of scene, and one of his quizzical stares sufficed to scare them off again. Only a few customers were regulars of both.”

The Golden Lion later achieved some notoriety as the serial killer Dennis Nilsen picked up at least one of his victims at the pub.

The Coach & Horses – Greek Street

On the sign on the corner of the pub, the Coach & Horses claims that it is “the West End’s best known pub”, and on the pub’s website, that “it’s a deeply loved London institution with a rich history”, but fails to put any of this history on the pub’s website.

The claims seem to stem from one man, Norman Balon, the Landlord for an incredible length of time from 1943 to 2006, when he lived up to his self proclaimed reputation as being the “rudest landlord in London”.

Typical of the many accounts of Norman Balon’s last day at the Coach and Horses is the following:

“The strangely coveted title of London’s Rudest Landlord is now vacant, as its long-time holder, Norman Balon of the Coach and Horses, Soho, tucks the sale price of the pub into his locally made suit and takes the Underground home to his home in Golders Green.

Mr. Balon, 79, has told more people to drink up and leave than Jeffrey Bernard drank large vodka-ice-and-sodas at his bar side during the decades he wrote Low Life, his celebrated Spectator column.

Last week the pub overflowed like a badly pulled pint with well-wishers. Richard Ingrams, founder of satirical magazine Private Eye made a two-sentence speech: ‘the only man grumpier than me. I salute you’.

Writer Beryl Bainbridge cheered, Spencer Bright, biographer of both Boy George and Norman Balon, looked sad.

For this is the pub behind Michael Heath’s extraordinary cartoon strip ‘The Regulars’ in Private Eye, which once had one Regular saying to another ‘I’m sorry I was rude last night. You see, I was sober’.

At the farewell bash, Heath remarked ‘I don’t remember Norman being rude. in fact, i don’t remember anything from those years’.

By classic Soho standards of stiletto rudeness, Norman Balon was a measured man. Tourists asking for sandwiches might, though, be puzzled to be told to leave and not come back. It was a defense mechanism against bores. The Coach, as everyone called it, was a pub for talking, since Mr. Balon would tolerate no jukebox, among other things.”

The Coach and Horses featured in the play, “Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell”, by Keith Waterhouse, which opened in London at the Apollo Theatre in Shaftesbury Lane in October 1989, with Peter O’Toole playing the lead character of Jeffrey Bernard, with a small supporting cast.

Jeffrey Bernard was a journalist who wrote for Private Eye and Sporting Life, and for the Spectator under the name of “Low Life”, where he wrote about his life in Soho and in the Coach and Horses where he was very much a regular.

The magazine Private Eye held their lunches at the pub for 25 years.

Norman Balon’s biography was ghost written by Spencer Bright and went by the title of “You’re Barred, You Bastards: The Memoirs of a Soho Publican”.

There is a conversation with Norman Balon here (again click here to go to the website if you cannot see the post):

There is a 1987 BBC Arena documentary about Jeffrey Bernard which includes film within the Coach & Horses:

And another documentary on Jeffrey Bernard – Reach for the Ground, which includes some film of Soho as it was:

The Coach and Horses is Grade II listed, both the pub building, and as part of a block of adjoinging buildings. It is listed for the exterior architecure and for surviving internal features.

The first record of a license for the Coach and Horses dates back to 1724. The current building dates from around 1840, and the pub was remodeled and extended in 1889, with the interior bar from 1930 when the pub was taken over by Taylor, Walker & Company.

It is a wonderful pub, and a reminder of a lost Soho.

The Three Greyhounds – Greek Street

The Three Greyhounds claims that the name comes from the greyhounds that roamed the area that became Soho, when it was open field.

The pub appears to date back to 1837, when Soho was a densely built and populated area of London, and greyhounds roaming the fields would have been a couple of centuries before. The mock Tudor styling of the pub probably intends to give its appearance some age.

I cannot find too much of a history to the Three Greyhounds, apart from it being a typical Soho pub which attracted its fair share of writers, musicians, those active in the theatre industry etc. All who were once part of the drinking culture of Soho.

The journalist, author, TV presenter, and Soho drinker, Daniel Farson quoted earlier in the section on the Golden Lion, included in his book a summary of “A Soho Type of Person” and which encapsulates how drinking was such an important part of the culture of Soho:

A Soho Type of Person:

The drinkers in the French symbolised Soho in 1951.

What makes a Soho type of person? You need a Bohemian streak to find the lure irresistible. You would never contemplate going out for ‘just the one’ unless it was the one day. Soho people rarely use ‘drink’ in the singular – lets meet for a drink, or we’ll discuss it over a drink – for they know that that much singularity is absurd. Yet they take offence if someone asks them if they want ‘another’ for the semblance of self-discipline is vital.

An alcoholic hates drink; the Soho person loves it. This is why there are so few alcoholics in Soho though plenty of drunks.

Soho people do not tell ‘jokes’ and avoid the eyes of those who do. They relish true stories, especially of their friends’ disasters. equally they enjoy celebrating a friend’s success….when the friend is paying. The good luck might rub off.

A Soho person is someone:

• who is not afraid to cry in public;
• who rarely travels by public transport, preferring the privacy of taxis;
• who regards taxes of the other sort, and all brown envelopes with little windows, as an unwarrantable intrusion;
• who cashes cheques anywhere, except the bank;
• who seldom knows the date;
• who will miss a dinner appointment if he is enjoying himself;
• who has been barred from at least one pub, club or restaurant;
• whose life staggers from the gutter to the Ritz and maybe back again.

Pubs have long been an important part of life in Soho, and is one of the reasons why so many pubs remain. I will continue exploring these wonderful institutions in part 3 of my tour of Soho pubs.

For more on the author Daniel Farson quoted in this post, see my post on The Waterman’s Arms – Isle of Dogs.

alondoninheritance.com

There are two areas of London that probably have the highest concentration of pubs in the whole city – the City of London and Soho.

Much of the wider London area once had a far higher number of pubs than now. You only have to look at old OS maps from the end of the 19th century to see just how many there were in, for example, east London, with some areas having a pub almost on every street corner.

Whilst many have closed, a high number have survived in the City of London due to the number of City workers and the type of business in the City being conducive to socialising and meeting in pubs. Whilst the traditional liquid lunch has mainly become a thing of the past, one only has to walk through the City on a summer’s afternoon to see plenty of busy pubs, with drinkers spilling out onto the pavement.

I went on a walk to find City of London pubs back in 2020, and the first of three posts on these establishments can be found here.

The other area of London with a high density of pubs is Soho.

As with the City of London, Soho has always been a distinctive area with historically many aspects of the place being conducive to pub culture. There continue to be a high number of pubs in Soho to this day. Generally always busy with locals, workers, visitors and tourists, and four years after searching for City pubs, I thought I would explore Soho pubs, and today is the first of three posts over the coming couple of months detailing the results.

Every Soho pub has a back story. Some extensive, some quite humble, but there is something to discover for each pub, the majority of which have been there, and often rebuilt, since the 18th century.

So today is the first post on Soho pubs, and I will start with a visit to:

The Devonshire – Denman Street

There are plenty of pubs closing and it is not often that a pub reopens, but that it what has happened with the Devonshire.

Originally the Devonshire Arms, the pub dates back to 1793, and for the following 219 years it was a typical Soho local pub.

The Devonshire Arms closed in 2012 and soon after became a Jamie’s Italian restaurant.

The building’s use as a restaurant ended a couple of years ago, and new owners completely refurbished the building to the standard of a traditional pub on the ground floor, and restaurant seating on the upper floors, and reopened as the Devonshire in 2023.

Judging by how many people are using the pub every time I have been in, or walked past, it appears to be very successful, and apparently has the reputation of selling the most pints of Guinness of any pub in London.

Looking back at the history of the pub, the only thing I could find were recurring stories of typical London low level crime, however there was one report, dating from the 18th of August, 1894 which highlighted some of the challenges of policing 19th century London:

“On Saturday evening a desperate affray took place outside the Devonshire Arms public-house, Denman-street. it appears that a constable was called to eject some men and women from the public-house named. When they got outside the mob made a rush at the policeman, who was thrown to the ground. He got up, however, and blew his whistle, and several other constables quickly arrived. A desperate fight then took place, in the course of which one of the policemen was stabbed in the back by one of the women with a large hair pin. Other constables then arrived, and after much trouble four men and two women were taken to Vine-street station. Several hundred people witnessed the conflict.”

Hopefully the Devonshire now has a more peaceful, and long future as a restored Soho pub.

The Queens Head – Denman Street

The Queens Head in Denman Street is a lovely traditional, independent London pub.

My use of the word traditional is for a pub which has a bar, typically all wood, with hand pumps. Shelves behind the bar full of bottles of spirits. A large bar area with a mix of seating and standing, with wooden seats and tables. The Queens Head is independent in that it is not tied to a specific brewery, and therefore able to sell a range of beers and spirits.

The Queens Head claims to date back to 1736. I cannot find any evidence that would either confirm or contradict the date.

There are plenty of newspaper references to the Queens Head, petty crime, the societies who used the pub as their meeting place etc. but my favourite was an article that shows that back in 1874 you could get a large fine or a prison sentence for lying on your CV.

John Holder,a 24 year old barman was taken to court accused of fraud. He had applied for a job as a barmen at the Nightingale Pub in St. John’s Wood.

He said to his prospective new employer that he had worked at the Queens Head in Denman Street but had left after a change of ownership, and that Mr. Cardwell, his previous employer at the Queens Head would give him a reference.

He gave an address for Mr. Cardwell, and his prospective employer went to the address to confirm his references, however his was told that no one knew Mr. Cardwell, and after talking to the Queens Head, it was confirmed that John Holder had not worked at the pub.

In mitigation, poor John Holder told the court that he had been out of work for some time, and could not get a job, and was very sorry for what he had done.

Despite this, he was convicted of fraud and he had to either pay the full penalty of £20 and 10 shillings of costs, or be imprisoned in the House of Correction for three months.

Given his lack of work, I suspect he ended up in the House of Correction for three months, a penalty which seems very harsh for someone who appears to have just been desperate to get a job.

The Crown – Brewer Street

The Crown in Brewer Street, at the corner with Lower James Street.

The Crown is one of the many Soho pubs that has some interesting decoration. Facing Brewer Street, the pub has two upper floors, with a row of four windows along each floor, however along the narrower side of the building, the second floor has a large semi-circle of decoration with the name of the Crown Tavern displayed.

There is some interesting history covering the location of the pub on a panel on the ground floor:

The panel states that the Crown sits on the site of one of the most well known concert halls of the 18th century, the Hickford Rooms.

I found an article about the Hickford Rooms in an issue of the Musical Times, titled “A Forgotten Concert Room”. The following is from the first paragraph of the article, and I will give you the date of the article after this extract:

“Modern London is becoming a new Americanised city, and all its old and peculiarly English characteristics are fast becoming improved out of existence. If anyone who left it during the sixties of the last century return to visit it today, he will imagine himself to be in some foreign town, and for the most part fail to recognise the London he knew so intimately of old.”

That was the opening to the article, published in the Musical Times on the 1st of September 1906, and illustrates what is a theme of the blog, that London has undergone almost continuous change for the entire period there has been people living in what we now call London.

The introduction also follows up on last week’s blog, that the 19th century was one of the periods when there was a high degree of change that set the city on course for the following century.

The article provides the following introduction to Hickford’s Room:

“The long-forgotten old concert-room in Brewer Street has fortunately escaped demolition, and it recalls a chapter of London’s musical history little noticed by the general reader. The building now forms part of the premises of the Club Francais, but for thirty-five years during the middle of the 18th century, it was a much frequented and fashionable resort, and was known by the name of Hickford’s Room.

John Hickford, the proprietor, began life as a dancing-master in the latter part of Queen Anne’s reign, and originally had a dancing school in James Street, Haymarket. There was at that time only one other room in the West-end large enough for concerts of any pretensions, and as that was sometimes difficult to secure, and its proprietor was not a particularly agreeable man, certain well-known artists began to make use of Mr. Hickford’s great dancing room wherein to give their concerts.”

The school mentioned above was in Haymarket, but became so successful that Hickford then moved to the site in Brewer Street, where it was assumed the new hall was designed specifically for Hickford.

The front door of the new hall opened into a square hall, which gave access to the concert room which was at the back of the building, and there was also a staircase which gave access to a small gallery.

The concert room was fifty feet long and thirty feet wide, and the ceiling was coved, and there were moldings, cornices and other decorations, that were in an “elegant style that the brothers Adam improved upon”.

The article mentions a large number of artists who performed at Hickford’s Room, and has the following to say about Mozart playing in Brewer Street:

“Two other shadows, brother and sister, play the harpsichord. The boy is eight years old, the girl thirteen, a demure, motherly child, her hair crowned by a mop-cap. The boy’s playing is phenomenal, and he bids fair to rival Mr. Handel in composition. But the scanty audience is not interested, it cares no longer for these two children who only a year ago were the spoiled darlings of the whole town. The little boy fulfilled in manhood the brilliant promise of his youth, and London should be proud that it still possesses a room once distinguished by the performance of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”

Hickford’s Hall soon faced competition from other halls in London, along with changing fashions as in the later part of the 18th century, interest changed from small musical recitals to orchestral performances, which Hickford’s Hall was not large enough to accommodate.

As well as music, the hall put on other events such as talks and lectures, including in 1761, Thomas Sheridan who gave a “Course of Lectures on Elocution”.

Over the following years, the hall went through a number of changes in owners and use, but survived until 1934 when it was demolished to make way for an annex of the Regent Palace Hotel.

If the hall lasted until 1934, it obviously raises the question of how can the pub be on the site.

As far as I can tell (given the time available for a weekly blog post), the house and main entrance to the hall was on the site of the Crown, and the hall was to the rear of the Crown.

The earliest reference to the crown that I can find are from the years around 1830, so I suspect the house and entrance to the hall were demolished and the Crown was built, with the hall surviving just behind the pub, until demolition in 1934.

Glasshouse Stores – Brewer Street

The Glasshouse Stores is another pub that claims to date back to the 1730s, however the rather unusual current name is not the original, as it had the more traditional pub name of the Coach and Horses.

The last time I can find the original name mentioned is in 1849, and by 1872 the name Glasshouse Stores was in use, as the pub was advertising for an active, single young man, to work as a Potman, and also to wait on the Billiard Room, to wash pewter and also the windows of the pub – so basically anything that was needed.

No idea why the pub changed its name, or the relevance of the new name, however it demonstrates that changing a pub name is not a recent phenomena.

The Sun and 13 Cantons – Great Pulteney Street

The Sun and 13 Cantons must have one of the most unusual pub names in London.

The pub’s website claims that the source of the name is from the Swiss watch-making community that lived and worked in Soho in the late 1800s.

The pub also claims that the name of the pub was originally just “The Sun”, and the 13 Cantons was added in 1882 when the pub reopened after a rebuild, however I am not so sure, and am confident that the pub had its full name of The Sun and 13 Cantons earlier in the 19th century. For example, the following is from the London Morning Advertiser on the 13th of May, 1823:

“Dr. Dell, of the Sun and 13 Cantons, Great Pultney-street, was fined fifteen shillings and costs for the like offence.”

The “like offence” was referring to another fine in the paper where a licensee of a different pub was fined for serving customers after twelve o’clock.

The Englishman (published in London) on the 3rd of June, 1832 had a report about a fire where a couple of people had died, and in the report was stated:

“The inquest was held at the Sun and 13 Cantons, Great Pulteney-street”

To add some mystery, in the London Morning Post on the 22nd of April, 1825, there was an advert for an auction, where Lot 2 was “The Sun and 13 Cantons, Liquor Shop and Public House, on the east side of Castle-street, Leicester Square, adjoining Cecil-court.”

So there are two newspaper reports, one from 1823 and the other form 1832 both referring to the Sun and 13 Cantons being in Great Pultney Street, as it still is today, on the corner with Beak Street, well before the 1882 mentioned on the pub’s website.

The 1825 report is strange as it refers to a pub with the same name, but being in a different, but nearby, location. It is an unusual name for there to be two pubs of the same name, although they were close, so probably had the same association with local Swiss watch makers.

An interesting pub, with a name that recalls some of the people and trades that have made Soho their home.

Old Coffee House – Beak Street

The Old Coffee House is a really good, family run pub, and is well worth a visit for a proper local pub.

The name is strange for a pub, but it does tell of the early history of the site.

The main entrance to the pub today is on Beak Street, and to find the original purpose of the site, we need to look at name changes. The first part of Beak Street was built in 1689 by Thomas Beak, and he gave his name to this first section of the street.

The section of the street where the Old Coffee House is located was developed in 1718, and went by the name of Silver Street. This name was dropped in 1883, when the whole of both Beak and Silver Streets became Beak Street.

A Coffee House was originally on the site of the current pub, and went by the name of the Silver Street Coffee House. I cannot find exactly when the establishment changed from being a coffee house to a pub, but it seems to have been around the 1870s / 1880s, and with a lovely bit of continuity, it kept the Coffee House name as part of the new pub name.

The Old Coffee House appears to have had a number of associations with the theatre, as in the 1920s it was the meeting place on a Sunday morning for members of the Electrical Trades Union Cinema & Theatrical Branch, and in 1948, the Sphere was reporting that the pub had “a very large audition room which has often been used for theatrical rehearsals”. The pub is larger than the pink painted section suggests, as the pub extends further along Marshall Street to the right.

A lovely, traditional Soho pub.

John Snow – Corner of Broadwick Street and Lexington Street

The John Snow pub stands on the corner of Broadwick Street (originally Broad Street) and Lexington Street (originally Cambridge Street). A number of streets in this area of Soho have changed their names since the mid 19th century.

The pub building dates from the 1870s, and was originally called the “Newcastle-upon-Tyne”, The name changed in 1955 to commemorate the centenary of the work in the area of John Snow.

Dr. John Snow, often called the founding father of Epidemiology was known for his work on the transmission of Cholera in London, and he would demonstrate conclusively how this killer of large numbers of Londoners was transmitted. Perhaps hs most well known work was on the location of the source of a Cholera outbreak in 1854 in Broad Street, Soho area.

It is a really fascinating story, and instead of including it in this post about Soho pubs, click here for a dedicated post I wrote a couple of years ago about John Snow and the Soho Cholera Outbreak of 1854.

Star and Garter – Poland Street

The Star and Garter in Poland Street is a lovely little pub squashed between two much later and larger buildings.

Researching the pub, it highlights how pubs once served an essential purpose as the meeting place of clubs and societies, and with the Star and Garter it seems to have been the regular meeting place of two groups who were looking to protect the interests of workers and to campaign for improved rights.

in 1834, the Star and Garter was the meeting place for a Society of Journeymen Tailors, and on joining the society, those working in the trade would “meet with constant employment, and the protection from malicious threats of those who are regardless of their own, or the wellbeing of others”.

In 1868 the Star and Garter was the meeting place of the “West End Cabinetmakers’ Branch of the Reform League”. The Reform League was founded in 1865, and campaigned for all adult males to have the vote.

These meetings also identify some of the trades that once occupied Soho, and as well as watchmakers (from the Sun and 13 Cantons), we also now have tailors and cabinet makers.

The meetings in the Star and Garter in 1868 tell of the long struggle for universal suffrage, the right for every adult in the country to have the vote.

In 1831, only 4,500 men in the whole of the country could vote in parliamentary elections. These 4,500 were generally landowners, and there was incredible inconsistencies across the country where the Borough of Dunwich in Suffolk (population 32, and one of the Rotten Boroughs) could elect two MPs, whilst the expanding industrial cities of Birmingham and Manchester did not have any MPs.

Parliament did, very grudgingly, expand the male vote, for example the Second Reform Act of 1867 expanded the vote to men who owned houses or lodgers who paid rent of £10 a year or more.

It would not be until the 1918 Representation of the People Act that the vote was extended to all men, and also gave the vote to women over the age of thirty who owned property, and all women would have to wait until the Equal Franchise Act of 1928, when any women over the age of 21 (the same as men) would get the vote.

When you sit in pubs such as the Star and Garter, having a pint on a summer afternoon, it is fascinating to think of the Londoners who met here to plan how they would be part of a wider campaign for the vote.

Blue Posts – Corner of Broadwick Street and Berwick Street

On the corner of Broadwick Street and Berwick Street is the Blue Posts pub. The current rather attractive building dates from a 1914 rebuild, however there had been a pub on the site since the original development of the area.

The lantern and decoration on the corner of the pub:

As with other Soho pubs, the Blue Posts was frequently used for auditioning those who wanted to get into the entertainment business, and a typical advert (this example from the Stage in 1925) reads:

“Wanted for Mrs Sydney T. Russelle’s Troupes, good all round Lady Dancers. immediate work for the Continent and England. Only first-class ladies need apply between 2 and 4 Thurs and Fridays at the Blue Posts, Berwick Street”

The Blue Posts also has a rather obscure claim to cinematic fame when a model of the pub was destroyed by a brontosaurus in the 1925 film Lost World. The following clip shows the pub just before the brontosaurus crashes in and demolishes the building:

Apparently the animators, who created a rather impressive animated film for the 1920s, drank in the pub they chose to destroy for the film.

There is a Westminster City Council green plaque on the Berwick Street side of the pub, recording that Jessie Matthews, “Musical Comedy Star of Stage and Screen” was born in Berwick Street in 1907. She was not born in the pub, rather in a flat above a butchers shop at 94 Berwick Street, which is almost half way along Berwick Street from the pub.

Perhaps the Council decided that the Blue Posts was a more permanent building, in a more visible location, to display the plaque then the place of her birth.

Duke of Wellington – Wardour Street

The website of the pub describes the pub as “Serving the LGBTQIA+ community for over 20 years, the Duke of Wellington takes pride in being your Soho local” and it is a very busy Soho pub.

It has long had a Wardour Street address, desite the long length of the building being on Winnett Street.

In 1966, the Tatler described the Duke of Wellington as “facing the stage door of the Queen’s Theatre. perhaps the most famous after-theatre pub in Soho. It has been the property of Christ College Hospital since 1723, and Mr. W. Evans has been the tenant since 1931. Old Tudor beams, stag heads and antique vaults. Home-made lunches are enjoyable and plenty of stimulating theatre chat could keep one going until closing time.”

Today, the pub is owned by the Stonegate Group (was known as the Stonegate Pub Company). I cannot find whether this is freehold or leased, but I suspect that Christ College Hospital have sold the site in the past few decades.

The Ship – Wardour Street

The Ship has a Wardour Street address, and is on the corner of Wardour Street and Flaxman Court.

Again, a lovely traditional pub, but a pub which had a more interesting name than just the Ship.

Dating from the late 18th century, and rebuilt in the late 19th century, the pub was originally called “The Ship in Distress”.

I cannot find any reference to the source of the name, whether it referred to a specific ship, or whether it was just an imagined name.

The last mention I can find of the name Ship in Distress is on the 9th of July, 1865, when in a list of license transfers in the Weekly Advertiser, the license for the Ship in Distress was reported as transferring from Charles Humby to Robert Henwood, although in 1859, the pub was referred to as the “New Ship” in a number of newspapers, for example with reports of the results of a Billiard competition between pubs.

The pub may have changed name at the same time as a rebuild, and the use of the old name with the license renewal six years after the name “New Ship” was in use, may just have been an error with records not catching up with name changes.

The name may have changed as the “Ship in Distress” is a rather depressing name, recording either a factual or fictional tragic event. New landlords / owners may have wanted to have a more positive name, and changed to the Ship, which was probably how the pub was called in day to day use.

In recent decades, the Ship was frequently used by many of the musicians who lived, performed, and had business in the area of Wardour Street. The Marquis Club was a short walk from the Ship, and there are various stories about Keith Moon of the Who being banned from the Ship, the Clash drinking in the pub, along with many other musicians.

The George – D’Arblay Street

The George is on the corner of D’Arblay Street and Wardour Street.

To help with dating the building, the year 1897 is displayed on the corner of the building, on the first floor, and on the second floor there is an image of presumably one of the King George’s that the pub is named after.

The Survey of London records that the George has been here since at least 1739, so at around the same time as the street was laid out in 1735. Based on this date, the George could be George II who became monarch in the year 1727.

The George was originally on Portland Street, the original name of the street that became D’Arblay Street in 1909 after Fanny Burney (the novelist, diarist and playwright, who lived from 1752 to 1840), and who lived in Soho, and married French émigré General Alexandre D’Arblay.

I find it strange that to name a street after a woman, you use the surname of her husband. I am always cautious with applying a 21st century view to earlier times, however a quick newspaper search, and the name Fanny Burney was used many, many more times both during and after her life, rather than Madame D’Arblay as she was also known, so rather than D’Arblay Street, perhaps the street should be called Burney Street.

The Hat Tavern – Great Chapel Street

I was in two minds whether to include this establishment, which has a full name of Mr Fogg’s Hat Tavern, and is on the corner of Great Chapel Street and Hollen Street. It is one of a number of taverns and gin establishments across London which go under the Mr. Fogg brand, named after Phileas J. Fogg, the lead character in Jules Verne novel Around the World in Eighty Days.

It is a pub on the ground floor, and a gin club in the basement.

The name Hat Tavern is taken from the building on the opposite side of Hollen Street, which still has the wording “Hat Factory Henry Heath Oxford Street”.

The Henry Heath Hat Factory occupied a large site between Hollen Street and Oxford Street, where hats were manufactured, and sold from the building that faced onto Oxford Street.

The company manufactured hats for a range for uses, from sporting (such as ventilated hunting caps for ladies and gentlemen) to formal (with silk hats).

In 1885, the company was advertising “The Exhibition of ‘RATIONAL DRESS’ – HENRY HEATH of 107, Oxford Street has a sensible improvement in the shape of a soft-banded hat. Everyone knows the painful sensation experienced from the pressure of the usual stiff felt or silk hat; this is quite obviated in the hat manufactured by HENRY HEATH”.

In 1922, Henry Heath celebrated their centenary, and in newspapers announced that their rebuilt showroom in Oxford Street was now open. The factory between Oxford and Hollen Streets employed 200 workers, and their hat making skills led to the following 1922 description of the business in the Pall Mall Gazette:

“Henry Heath has supplied the headgear of each succeeding monarch during the century that has elapsed between George IV and George V, as well as of all the notabilities of each reign. The Prince of Wales, just before his Indian tour, appointed Henry Heath his hatter by Royal Warrant. many foreign monarchs too, have been fitted by Henry Heath, and have appointed him Royal hatter; the King of Spain amongst them.

Such is the International reputation of ‘Ye Hatterie’ as the famous establishment in Oxford-street is known, that visitors from all parts of the globe come to this historic house to be fitted with their headgear while sojourning in London.”

The last mention of Henry Heath hats I could find was in Country Life in 1962 where one of their soft brown hats were been shown as part of an overall outfit. In the 1930s, 40s and 50s they seem to have either moved to, or opened a showroom in New Bond Street, and the number of adverts in the London press declined gradually.

Whether they were still an independent company in the 1960s, I cannot confirm, however it appears that the Henry Heath brand disappeared in the 1960s, most likely the victim of changing fashions and cheaper imports.

The building that once had Henry Heath’s showroom is still to be seen in Oxford Street, and it is an interesting building which I will save for a future post.

That was a bit of a diversion, but it explains why the Hat Tavern has the name.

Before the Hat Tavern opened, the building was the Star pub / coffee shop, before that the Bloemfontein, and originally the George, with the first reference I could find for the George being in the Morning Chronicle in 1817.

The Nellie Dean of Soho – Dean Street

The Nellie Dean of Soho occupies a listed building, and the Grade II listing details on the Historic England site states:

“Corner public house. Possibly earlier C18 fabric, refronted c.1800 with c.1900 pub front. Stock brick, slate roof, 3 storeys and dormered mansard. 4 windows wide with 3 window returns to Carlisle Street. c.1900 pilastered pub front to ground floor with angled entrance on corner. Upper floors have recessed sash windows, no glazing bars, under red brick gauged flat arches. Crowning stucco cornice with open cast iron balustrade in front of mansard. Formerly called the “Highlander”. A public house was on the site in 1748. Prominent corner with strong group value.”

The first reference I can find to the Highlander pub is from 1826 when the pub featured in a court report where the defendant was identified as living at the Highlander.

The name Nellie Dean comes from the sentimental song “(You’re My Heart’s Desire, I Love You) Nellie Dean” written by the American composer Henry W. Armstrong in 1905.

The song became the signature song of the music hall star Gertie Gitana, after her brother had heard the song whilst in America.

Gertie Gitana died in 1957, and the following is typical of newspaper reporting of her burial at Wigston Magna, Leicestershire:

“A cold wind blew through the scores of wreaths that had been hung over the railings at the edge of the grave as more than 200 people stood in silent tribute to the gay, sunbonnet girl of the old time music hall.

Gertie was more than just a variety artist. She expressed the spirit of her age and the careless rapture that went with it. Her songs were sad, but they were also gay.

Before Nellie Dean became a stock song for gentlemen songsters on a spree, she could, by swinging it, make it sound like the happiest ballad in the world.

To many she was Nellie Dean and many of the wreaths at her graveside were addressed in this way. Flowers arranged in notes of music came from her music hall friends. There were wreaths from the Variety Artists Federation, the Water Rats, Robb Wilton and entertainers from each corner of the British Isles.

All wished to say to Gertie Gitana – Thanks for the memory.”

Gertie Gitana singing Nellie Dean (if you cannot see the video, click here to go to the website):

And that is the origin of the Nellie Dean of Soho in Dean Street. I wonder if Nellie Dean is still a “stock song for gentlemen songsters on a spree” in the pubs of Soho.

I will continue my exploration of Soho pubs in a few weeks time.

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