I have written about the area between the Strand and the Embankment in a number of previous posts. It is a fascinating place of alleys, steep streets to the river, and a place where we can still find features that are reminders of long lost landscapes.
One such feature can be found at the southern end of Essex Street, where the street appears to come to an end, with a large gap in the building at the end of the street framing the view towards the Embankment:
The archway through the building at the end of Essex Street leads to a set of stairs down to what would have been the level of the Thames. The archway in the 1920s from the book Wonderful London:
I love the details in these photos. There appears to be a child at lower left of the arch, who looks like they are holding a small dog or cat.
At first glance, the arch and surrounding building looks the same as the photo from 100 years ago, however looking closer and there are differences. The brickwork in the semi-circular area below the two round windows and above the entrance appears far more recessed in the 1920s than it does today, and along the wall between first and second floors there appears to be a white decorative band protruding from the brickwork which is not there today, so I suspect there has been some rebuilding / restoration of the building and arch.
A look at the London County Council Bomb Damage Map shows that there has indeed been some considerable post-war rebuilding, as the building surrounding the arch at the end of Essex Street is coloured deep purple, indicating serious damage.
A look through the arch in 2025:
The following photo from the the book “The Romance of London” by Alan Ivimy (1940), where the scene is described as “Water Gate, at Essex Street, Strand. This opening at the bottom of the street, which gives a view of green trees, is the old Water Gate, built into the surrounding houses, of Essex House, and the only survival of that great mansion”:
Essex House was one of the large houses that once lined the Strand, each with gardens leading down to the banks of the Thames. These houses would typically have their own access to the river as the river was frequently the fastest and safest method of travelling through London.
The caption in Alan Ivimey’s book is rather ambiguous as it states that the opening is the old water gate. It does not specifically state that the surrounding structure is the original water gate.
The houses lining the Strand often did have a feature where their private access to the river was located, as the view of these from the river would have acted as a location marker as well as a symbol of status, where a large, decorated structure acting as their gate to the river would have impressed visitors and those travelling along the Thames.
The arch was described as a Water Gate in the many illustrations of the feature that have appeared over the last couple of hundred years, including this print from 1848, where the Water Gate is described as the “stately portal with large columns to either side”:
So is the arch a survivor from the time of Essex House? Any thoughts that this may be a historic survival are quickly dashed when looking through the Historic England listing.
The arch is Grade II listed, however the listing text states that it is a “Triumphal” gateway built in 1676 by Nicholas Barbon to terminate his Essex Street development, and to screen his development of a commercial wharf below. The listing also confirms that there was bomb damage, and the surrounding buildings date from 1953.
Looking through the arch, we can see the steps leading down to Milford Lane:
Through the arch and down the stairs, we can look back at the rear of the 1953 building, the stairs and the arch. The view shows how the height difference between the streets leading down from the Strand, and what was the foreshore of the Thames have been managed, where the ground floor from this angle is the basement from Essex Street:
Although the building was bombed in the 1940s, and rebuilt in the 1950s, this view still looked very similar to the 1920s:
So, although the arch has frequently been called the Essex Street, or Essex House Water Gate, it appears that the feature dates from Nicholas Barbon’s development of what had been the Essex House gardens, into Essex Street. It was bombed in the last war, restored and rebuilt, and the building surrounding the arch dates from the 1950s.
I mentioned at the start of the post how features such as the arch can act as reminders of a long lost landscape, and to see how this works, we need to follow a series of maps.
In the above map, we can see Essex Street running slightly north west from the water gate (red arrow), up to the Strand. In the area between the arch / water gate, we can see part of the Victoria Embankment gardens to lower left, and on the right are Temple Gardens.
Going back to William Morgan’s 1682 map of London, and we can see the area soon after Nicholas Barbon’s development, with the red arrow marking the water gate:
There are 343 years between Morgan’s map, and the area today, and the street layout is almost identical, with Essex Street running to the north west, up to the Strand. The same two streets running east and west about two thirds up the street, and Milford Lane (blue arrow) running from the west to the south of the stairs in almost exactly the same alignment as today.
Morgan’s map shows a gap between the buildings at the end of Essex Street, where the arch is today. The map appears to show an open gap, with no arch, or floors above the arch. Whether this was an error in the map, whether the arch had not yet been built, or whether Barbon initially only put pillars on the building to the side of the gap as decoration, without an arch, would require much more research, but the key point is that the gap leading from Essex Street was there in 1682.
The 1682 map shows the stairs to the river, Essex Stairs (yellow arrow). These were not the stairs that lead down through the arch, but stairs at the end of what must have been a flat space between the water gate and the river, probably Barbon’s wharf development that the building and arch at the end of Essex Street was intended to screen.
To see how rapidly this area had changed, we can go back just five years from the above map, and the 1677 Ogilby and Morgan’s map of London.
In the extract below, we can see that Essex House, along with ornate gardens between the house and the Thames were still to be found. The red arrow marks the location of the water gate / arch we see today:
Essex House can be seen close to the Strand, opposite the church of St. Clements.
Essex House was originally Exeter House as it was the London residence of the Bishop of Exeter who had been granted the site in the reign of Edward III.
The house and grounds were taken during the Reformation, after which it was purchased by Thomas Howard, the fourth Duke of Norfolk, who was arrested in the house and in 1572 he was beheaded for his part in the conspiracy of Mary Queen of Scots. The house was then owned by the Earl of Leicester, and became Leicester House. After his death, the property passed to his son-in-law, the Earl of Essex during the reign of Elizabeth I, and the house became Essex House.
Originally facing directly onto the Strand, by the time of the above map, we can see that houses and shops had been built between the house and the Strand, reflecting the slow decline in the importance of the large houses built along the Strand.
The house was pulled down around 1682, the same year as the map of William Morgan, however it is always difficult to be sure of exact publication dates, when the streets were surveyed for the map etc.
This may also answer why the gap of the water gate is shown without an arch as the William Morgan map may have used the plans for the area, rather than as finally built.
The 1677 map shows some interesting comparisons and features:
comparing the shoreline between the Thames and the land in the 1677 and 1682 maps, and after Bourbon’s development, an area of the foreshore appears to have been recovered – Barbon’s wharf development as mentioned in the Historic England listing
this would then put the current arch / water gate at the location of the original stairs at the end of the gardens, to the river
the slight north west angle of the gardens is roughly the same as the alignment of Essex Street today, so as we walk along Essex Street, we are walking along what must have been the central pathway through the gardens of Essex House
although not named in the map, Milford Lane is running to the east of Essex House, in the same alignment as the lane today (although in 1677 it did not have the bend round the base of the stairs. Milford Lane once formed the boundary between Essex House and Arundel House to the west
An extract from the 1677 map is shown below, covering the boundary with the Thames:
There are two boats moored at the end of the stairs down to the river at the end of the gardens of Essex House, where the water gate stairs are today.
There are two other sets of stairs shown on the map. On the left, there is a cluster of boats around Milford Stairs – named after the lane on the east of Essex House, and a lane we can still find today.
On the right there is a large cluster of boats around Temple Stairs.
Three stairs in a short distance shows just how many stairs there once were between the land and the river. Many still survive, but stairs such as Milford, Essex and Temple have disappeared beneath the land reclamation for the Embankment.
Temple Stairs appear to have been of a rather ornate stone design. The following print shows the Great Frost of the winter of 1683 / 4:
Temple Stairs are on the left edge of the print, and they appear to be a stone, bridge like structure, probably over the most muddy part of the foreshore, with a set of steps then leading down to the river, where a passenger would take a boat to be rowed across or along the river.
The print has a pencil note “Taken from the Temple Stairs”, but other British Museum notes to the print state that the print is from near the Temple Stairs.
The following photo was taken from the southern end of Milford Lane, where it joins Temple Place:
The above photo is looking across what was Nicholas Barbon’s wharf development, which the houses at the end of Essex Street were meant to screen, and before Barbon’s work, this would have been the Thames foreshore, with the stairs leading down from the gardens of Essex House to the river, where the gap of the water gate can be seen.
In the following photo, the entrance to Milford Lane is on the right, behind the red phone box. The building on the left is Two Temple Place:
Two Temple Place gives the impression of being of some considerable age, however it is built on what was the Thames foreshore, and dates from the early 1890s, when William Waldorf Astor commissioned the gothic revivalist architect John Loughborough Pearson to create the building.
One of the stand out features is the gilded weather vane, made by J. Starkie Gardner, a representation of Christopher Columbus’ ship, the Santa Maria:
The water gate is today an interesting architectural feature at the end of Essex Street. Perhaps more importantly, it is reminder of a long lost landscape, which dates from Essex House and the gardens which led down to stairs to the Thames. After the demolition of Essex House, Essex Street was built on the same alignment as the gardens, and the stairs then led down to Barbon’s commercial wharf on what had been the Thames foreshore.
Today, the 19th century Embankment has further separated Essex Street and the stairs from the river, and Two Thames Place is a symbol of late 19th century building on the recently reclaimed land of the Embankment.
The stairs are also a reminder of a time when there were very many stairs along this part of the river, important places in the daily lives of many Londoners.
It has been some months since I last wrote about a set of Thames Stairs, so for today’s post, I am visiting another of these historic places that for many years connected the river with the land, and were once an essential part of life in London for very many people.
This is Bell Watergate Stairs, Woolwich:
Bell Watergate Stairs are listed in the Port of London Authority’s guide to Steps, Stairs and Landing Places on the Tidal Thames, although there is not much information provided, just the name, that they consist of stairs and a causeway, and that the concrete stairs and handrail are in poor condition. They are also confirmed as being in use.
Bell Watergate Stairs look in pretty good condition today, still with concrete stairs leading down to a causeway, with a handrail to the side. The causeway runs across a wider open space, and on the right is a sloping approach to the foreshore lined with stones, and along the upper part, there are wooden bars bolted to the stone surface to provide grip.
It was a very low tide on the day of my visit, leaving the causeway fully exposed, with green algae on the stairs, and along the side walls showing how far the water reaches:
The stairs are shown on the 1897 revision of the OS map, where the feature looked then, much as it does today, with the stairs and causeway within a wider entry into the river. The South Pontoon of the Woolwich Ferry is on the left and on the right is a Steam Boat Pier, originally used by the two steam ferries of the Eastern Counties Railway, the “Kent” and the “Essex”, to link Woolwich with the new railway station across the river at North Woolwich:
If we then look at the same area, almost 60 years later, the following 1956 revision of the OS map shows Bell Watergate Stairs in the centre of the map. The old steam boat pier has been removed (there was a charge to use this cross river ferry, and it could not compete with the Woolwich Free Ferry).
If you look to the right of the above map, I have used a blue arrow to point out a similar feature to Bell Watergate Stairs, where there is an inlet to the Thames, with stairs leading up to land. Sixty years later, this feature had disappeared, with the expansion of the industrial premises along the river.
The street leading up to the stairs was not named on the 1897 map, but in the 1956 revision, it is named as Bell Water Gate (I have used the single word Watergate in the title of the post, as this aligns with the Port of London listing – not that this means that it is correct and most references use Bell Water Gate).
As I have mentioned when writing about other Thames stairs in previous posts, whilst the physical feature of a set of stairs is fascinating, they are also important as they provide small snapshots of history and individual events which can be tied to a specific place.
They can illuminate different aspects of life in London over the centuries.
In the past, the river was a far more a part of many Londoner’s lives than it is today. Whether for work, travel, or just for play and entertainment. On the day of my visit, the stairs were quiet, however this has not always been the case, as “E.T.” was complaining about to the Woolwich Gazette on the 9th of August, 1901, when the hot summer weather was causing problems at the stairs:
“RIVERSIDE BATHING. Sir, – Surely measures can be taken to prevent this disgusting practice which takes place daily during the summer months at Bell Water Gate, Woolwich. The place in question is situated in close proximity to factories where young girls are employed. The language used by the lads is of the vilest description, and should not for one moment be tolerated. I sincerely hope that the authorities this should apply to will see these few lines, and in the name of decency stop once and for all the nuisance complained of.”
All along the river, Thames Stairs were places where children would play. The following is an extract from one of my father’s photos of Wapping Old Stairs, taken in 1948, and shows some children at the bottom of the stairs, alongside the water:
For children, the river could be a very dangerous place, and there were numerous reports of drownings, as well as many rescues. The following is from the Daily Mirror on the 9th of August, 1933:
“BOY OF 12 RESCUES A CHILD – A heroic rescue was made by a boy of twelve, Terence McNulty of Woolwich High-street, at Bell Water Gate, Woolwich, last night.
While playing on the steps leading down to the Thames, Peggy Ramsey, aged six, of Borgard-road, Woolwich Dockyard, fell into the river. Seeing the girl in difficulties, Terence plunged in and brought her to the bank. The girl was taken to hospital.”
Another example was in September, 1916, when: “A gallant rescue from drowning was effected yesterday morning at Woolwich by the Rev. C.W. Hutchinson, priest in charge of St. Saviour’s Mission, Woolwich. It appears that Arthur South, 12, Paradise Place, Woolwich, was playing on the steps leading to the river at Bell Water Gate when, on reaching for a box which was floating by, he overbalanced and fell into the river, being carried away by the tide.
Attracted by the screams of his companions, Mr. Hutchinson, whose mission house is close to the spot, ran out, and seeing the boy about 50 yards away, dived into the water, fully dressed, and succeeded in rescuing him. The boy was little the worse for his immersion, and after being treated at the Mission House, was able to go home.”
The Mission House was one of the establishments that was in Bell Water Gate, the street running up to Woolwich High Street.
The source of the name of Bell Water Gate Stairs is difficult to confirm, but the street leading from the stairs was also called Bell Water Gate, and in the street there was a Bell Public House, which dated from at least 1655, so the name of the stairs may come from the pub, along with the existence of a parish gate at the stairs. Bell being a common name for a pub, I think it is safe to assume that the stars were named after the pub, rather than the pub being named after the stairs.
The following 1907 report is typical of some of the mentions of the Bell public house: “At the Woolwich Police Court on Friday, William John Leonard, of the Bell public house, Bell Water Gate, Woolwich, appeared on an adjourned summons which charged him with permitting his premises to be the habitual resort of prostitutes for a longer time than necessary to obtain reasonable refreshment.
For the defence it was urged that the licensee was totally unaware of the character of the women who used the house, and maintained that it would have only been fair had the police notified him and given him warning first.
In giving evidence, John William Leonard, brother of the defendant, swore that he did not know that women pointed out by the police were prostitutes.”
I suspect that William Leonard, the landlord of the Bell, did know who was in his pub.
Bell Watergate Stairs could well have also existed when in the 17th century, and the stairs were once the main landing point for traffic between the river and the town of Woolwich, and they are the last of this type of stairs to survive in Woolwich.
A very early form of the Uber Thames Clippers operated from Bell Watergate Stairs, as in 1845, adverts in the Kentish Independent were informing the people of Woolwich that “Fast and Splendid Boats of the Waterman’s Company leave at the Waterman’s Pier, Bell Water Gate, Woolwich, every hour and half hour”, running to and from Westminster.
The boats offered an extensive number of stops, to, and as they returned from Westminster, calling at the Adelphi, Temple, Blackfriars’s and City Pier, and at the Thames Tunnel and Limehouse.
The following print dates from 1922 and is by Edward Arthur Evacustes Phipson. The view is looking down the street Bell Water Gate, towards the stairs at the end of the street, with the river and North Woolwich in the distance:
The above view has been replaced today by a very short street from the stairs up to Woolwich High Street with the Waterfront Leisure Centre on the western side, and new blocks of flats on the eastern side.
The stairs from the river showing the new flats on the left and leisure centre to the right. The buildings behind the stairs are in Woolwich High Street:
One of the reasons for the reduction in use of the stairs, as well as the redundant steam boat pier, is the Woolwich Free Ferry, which can be seen from the end of the causeway leading from Bell Water Gate Stairs into the river:
Although the area is rapidly developing with new apartment buildings, and the leisure centre has been here for a number of years, the location of the stairs was for many years surrounded by industry.
As an example, in 1893, the wharf next to the stairs was to be sold at auction, and was described as “This old-established concern, comprising a most valuable Wharf on the Thames at Bell Water Gate, Woolwich, with frontage of 180 feet, steam crane, large hopper, overhead tramway, large stores holding 2,000 tons, offices stabling for 20 horses, workshops, spacious yard with two entrances, capital residence etc. horses, vans, carts, machines and all the suitable trade fittings as a going concern.” Everything you would have needed to continue the coal merchants business.
On the western side of the stairs, Woolwich Power Station was one of the major developments, and is the feature labelled as “Works” in the 1956 extract from the OS map earlier in the post.
The electricity infrastructure alongside the stairs was the subject of one of the strangest newspaper stories about Thames stairs, when in April 1949:
“EXPLOSION AND FIRE CAUSED BY CAT – A cat caused an explosion and slight fire when it short-circuited a 33,000 volt transformer in the London Electricity Board’s transformer station in Bell Water Gate, Woolwich, early today.
The cat, which was chasing a rat, was killed. The explosion set light to the transformer housing, but no one was injured and the fire was out within half-an-hour.”
Events at places such as Thames Stairs can reveal society’s approach to domestic abuse and how someone who had attempted suicide was treated as a criminal rather than someone in need of help. There are a number of examples of this at Bell Water Gate Stairs, with the following being typical:
“MARRIED MISERY AY PLUMSTEAD – WIFE’S ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. Alice White, 31, married, 14 Barnfield Road, Plumstead,, was again before Mr. Disney at Woolwich, on Monday, charged with attempted suicide in the Thames at Bell Water Gate, Woolwich. Police Constable Falla found her with her hat and coat off, about to jump into the water, and she said she would do it again when she got the chance, alleging that her husband was the cause of the trouble.
Frederick White, the husband, said that the prisoner did not drink much, but she was upset about her son, who was away in a sanatorium for tuberculosis. he had had no words with her on the day in question.
Prisoner: He threatened to pull everything off me if I went out. When I was out with my boy, his brother threatened to break every bone in my body. They have both beaten me.
Husband: When I have words with her it is over the beer.
Wife: It’s you who has the beer.
Magistrate: You must both keep away from the beer, and try to agree. I will bind you (the woman) over for twelve months, and your husband must be surety.”
The following photo is looking back towards the land from the end of the causeway. To the left can be seen a small part of the new apartment buildings. These are built on the site of a large council car park, which in turn occupied the site of Woolwich Power Station, which closed in 1978:
One of the more unusual feature of Bell Watergate Stairs, compared to other Thames stairs can be seen in the above photo, where to the left of the stairs, there is a slopping, paved area running between foreshore and land, and this sloping area has some horizontal wooden treads bolted into the ground.
These can be seen in detail in the following photo:
These were used as foot holds when pulling a boat out of, or lowering into the river.
They may also have been used to reduce the friction between the bottom of a boat and the surface, with the keel of the boat running across the wood, rather than the stone surface. The bolts holding the wood to the ground are recessed, so would not have damaged any craft being pulled across them.
The impact on wood of regular covering with water as the tide rises, followed by drying out as the tide recedes can be seen in the following photo, where the wooden treads end at roughly the tide mark, with the wooden treads below this level having rotted away, with only the metal bolts showing that they had continued down to the foreshore:
As with so many other Thames Stairs, they are rarely visited these days, and I doubt are used to get between the river and the land.
These are still dangerous places, the damp algae on the steps was extremely slippery on my visit, and the Thames tides would still easily pull someone out into the river.
They are though important places to act as a reminder of how much Londoners were once dependent on the river, and of the countless thousands who have come into contact with Bell Water Gate Stairs. I will leave the last words to Mary Ann Carney, who in 1898 was up before the Magistrate for being drunk and disorderly at Bell Water Gate, with this little exchange:
Prisoner: Whenever I begin talking Irish the police think I am drunk and lock me up
Magistrate: I think your accent rather pretty but you are fined 5s or five days
Prisoner: God bless your Worship and long life to you.
In 1949, my father photographed the patrol boats of the Thames River Police, moored in the river next to the floating police station, which was located where the RNLI Lifeboat Station is today, next to Waterloo Bridge, which is the bridge seen in the background:
The boats of the river police, or to give them the correct name of today’s force, the Marine Policing Unit, have changed somewhat in the intervening 76 years:
The founding of the Thames River Police as a professional force goes back to the year 1800. The rapidly growing trade based along the river, the storage of valuable goods in warehouses and boats on the river and the resultant dramatic increase in theft resulted in an urgent need for a force that could protect commercial property.
Whilst a police force for the river had been formed in 1798, it lacked the supporting legislation, along with a more professional approach to policing, which the Port of London required.
One man, Patrick Colquhoun was instrumental in demonstrating the remarkable volume of theft, the commercial impact that this had, both on owners and the loss of tax revenue, and putting forward an argument for legislation to support a professional river police, and in 1800, he published a major work of some 676 pages with the title of “A Treatise on the Commerce and Police of the River Thames”:
It is a remarkable read, and before looking at the contents of the book, some back ground into the life of Patrick Colquhoun.
He was born in March 1745 and died at his house, 21 James Street, Buckingham Gate, in April 1820.
To try and find a detailed account of his life, I searched newspapers of the time to see if there was an obituary, however every paper published just a brief couple of lines, similar to the following from the New Times of London on the 3rd of May, 1820:
“On the 25th, at his house, No. 21 James-street, Buckingham-gate, Patrick Colquhoun, Esq. LL.D. aged 76. Author of the Treatises of the Police of the Metropolis and the River Thames, and of the Wealth, Power and Resources of the British Empire.”
I eventually found a very comprehensive story of his life in the Barbados Mercury and Bridgetown Gazette on the 26th of September, 1820:
“We lately intimated the death of our Countryman Patrick Colquhoun, and we should not have again referred to this painful subject had we not felt that his was no ordinary merit, and that it was in some measure our duty to bestow upon his memory our tribute of respect for the patriotism of his public life.
Mr Colquhoun was descended from an ancient family settled in Dumbartonshire for many centuries. A younger son, he proceeded to Virginia, and there, although in the wilds of America, having access to a valuable library, he, by his own industry, completed his education. Returning to Scotland, he established himself in Glasgow. For three successive years he was elected Lord Provost of that City.
He regulated and improved the Forth and Clyde Navigation, so beneficial to the internal commerce of the Island.
He removed to London, and was nominated a Police Magistrate, but his was not a disposition to confine itself to the routine of mere official studies; or, seeing evils and imperfections in a system, to object, find fault with them, and leave them as they were. He felt it his duty to suggest remedies, and, as far as the means were afforded him, practically to prove the utility of his suggestions; with this feeling, he published ‘The Police of the Metropolis’ and soon after his assistance was solicited by the Duke of Portland to systematise and superintend the marine police of the River Thames.
Mr. Secretary Dundas estimated the increase to the Revenue from the system established at £30,000 annually on sugar alone, by the prevention of depredations on that article, and so expressed it in his speech on introducing the Thames Police Bill into the House.”
There is more to the obituary, which I will come onto later in the post, however the above couple of paragraphs bring us to Colquhoun’s book.
He had already written about the Police of the Metropolis, and his next book, Police of the Thames, focuses on the problem of theft across the Port of London, policing of the river, quays and warehouses, and the Acts of Parliament, laws and penalties needed to address what was a significant and growing problem at the end of the 18th century.
Patrick Colquhoun was into detail. The book is full of the history of the Port of London, how it had arrived as one of the major global trading centres by the end of the 18th century, how the port operated, trade through the port, those who work across the port etc. and Colquhoun used plenty of data and statistics to support his proposed approach.
His book really provides a very in depth understanding of the Port of London at the end of the 18th century, and for today’s post, I will look at the first couple of chapters which provide some background to the operation of the port, and the different methods of theft of goods whilst in boats on the rivers, whilst being transferred, and when stored in warehouses.
Indeed, at every part of the chain from when a ship arrived at the Port, to the time when goods where shipped to their final destination, there was a risk of theft.
At the end of the 18th century, the City of London had already long been a trading port, for as well as being a major crossing between the north and south banks of the Thames, the city’s role as a trading port was key to London’s existence, importance and growth.
It was not only English merchants though who were responsible foe trade. Some of the first records of trade through the city, show that in 1561, there were no Englishmen who had a sole occupation as an importer and exporter. The 327 people who were recorded as being merchants, consisted of:
In the 16th century, England was somewhat behind other European countries, such as the Netherlands, Spain and Portugal (for example, in my post a couple of weeks ago on William Adams, when he arrived in Japan in 1600, the Portuguese and Spanish had already established trading links, and the Dutch were also trading in the region).
Much of the early trading through the City was driven by trading companies, and merchant adventurers, who raised the funds needed to buy or build ships, raise crews and trade across the world, and the 16th century saw a growing number of these companies:
Hamburg Company – one of the earliest. Granted a charter by Henry IV in 1406, and renewed through to 1661
The Russia Company – Charter granted by Queen Mary in 1555
The Eastland, or North-Sea Company – Charter granted by Elizabeth I in 1579
The Turkey Company – Charter granted by Elizabeth I in 1581
The East-India Company – Charter granted by Elizabeth I in 1599
The American Company – Charter granted by Charles II in 1663
The Hudsons-Bay Company – Charter granted by Charles II in 1681
The impact on trade by companies such as the East-India and Hudson’s Bay can be seen in how trade through the Port of London was switching between Foreign and British owned ships. The following table shows the change between 1702 and 1751:
It was not just trade with foreign countries that was creating the rapid rise in the volume of trade through the Port of London, there was also a considerable amount of coastal trade, with ships trading between London and the various ports around the coast of the country.
The following table is one of very many from the book and shows the type of detailed information on the Port of London used by Colquhoun. The table shows the Coasting Trade between the Port of London and the ports across England and Wales in 1796:
The following table shows the increase in foreign trade throughout the 18th century, and the mix between British and Foreign ships. The table shows that foreign shipping expanded considerably during the later half of the century compared to the first half:
All these ships transported a vast array of valuable goods, and the book includes a large, fold out table detailing “Commerce and Shipping of the River Thames…..applicable to the year ending the 5th January 1798, with the true Valuation of the Merchandise Imported and Exported from and to Parts beyond Seas”. It was difficult to photograph this table due to the delicacy of this 225 year old book, and really not wanting to damage my copy. The following is my best attempt, click on the image for an enlarged version:
This was a colossal volume and variety of goods that at some point were on a ship in the Port of London, transferred between ship and quay, and stored in w warehouse.
I used the Bank of England inflation calculator to see what the equivalent value would be today, and the £30,957,421 of Imports would today be worth £3,375,071,706, with the £29,640,568 of exports being worth £3,231,504,408.
A number of caveats need to apply to these figures, for example the accuracy of inflation figures going back over 200 years, purchasing power, etc. but they do give an idea of value, and in today’s money, in 1798, £6,606,576,114 was being imported and exported through the Port of London
All these figures on trade in the Port of London were included in Colquhoun’s book to indicate the scale of the problem, as this vast array of valuable goods offered a considerable opportunity for theft, both by “professional” thieves, as well as organised and petty pilfering from those who worked across the Port of London.
Patrick Colquhoun believed that theft was endemic.
He believed that theft became a significant problem after the start of the 18th century, and attributes this to a decree of religious and moral decay, described in the following paragraphs:
“The progress of evil; propensities was slow, while a sense of Religion and Morality operated in a greater degree than at present; upon the minds of the lower orders of people. In the moral, as in the physical World. The change of habit is gradual, and often imperceptible. In contemplating the magnitude of the abuses which are to be developed in this Work, the mind is naturally led to an inquiry into the causes which have produced a system of matured delinquency; which is perhaps, unparalleled in the criminal history of any other country.
It is not unlikely, that the disposition to pillage Commercial Property while afloat, derived its origins in no considerable degree, from the habit of Smuggling, which has prevailed ever since Revenues were collected.”
Colquhoun treated the propensity for theft as a disease, which contaminated the minds of those working on the river. Those infected were seduced by motives of avarice, habits of pillage, and an impunity that came with the lack of appropriate laws, and the force to carry them out.
In describing how the disease spread, he states that: “New Converts to the System of Iniquity were rapidly made. The mass of Labourers on the River became gradually contaminated. A similar class upon the Quays, and in the Warehouses, caught the infection, and the evil expanded as Commerce increased.”
Colquhoun’s book provides very many detailed descriptions of daily life in the Port of London, and of those involved in the very many types of illegal activity in the port. These descriptions help us to understand what it was like in the Port, and the dangers faced by those transporting goods.
Colquhoun identified a number of “species of Depredation”, or “Classes” of those involved in theft across the Port of London, and I have summarised his descriptions of these as follows:
River Piracy – This was where organised gangs would attack a ship or lighter, and would take almost everything on board. Methods included cutting the anchor ropes or chains and letting the ship drift to a more suitable part of the river where it could be stripped, not just of cargo, but also of rigging, ropes, anchors, cables, anything that could be moved and had a value.
Night Plunderers – These were “chiefly composed of gangs of the most dissolute Watermen, who prefer idleness to labour”. Night plunders would look for, of be informed of, unattended lighters on the river, and would steal anything that was accessible and portable from the lighter. They would then take their plunder to a place agreed with a Receiver (another of the many criminal roles across the Port). Night plunders would often steal from the same place over a period of time, and Colquhoun gives an example of five boat loads of Hemp being stolen from a lighter over the course of a few weeks, and conveyed along the river, through London Bridge to Ranelaigh Creek where the stolen Hemp was sold.
Night Plunderers. denominated Light-Horsemen – Light-Horsemen were a type of Night Plunderer that focused on the West India Trade. Their pillage was “generally extensive and valuable”. They were organised, with Receivers on both sides of the river who were the chief leaders of individual gangs, The gangs of Light-Horsemen consisted of one or more Receivers, Coopers, Watermen and Lumpers, and they would board a boat fully prepared with Iron-crows, Adzes and the tools needed to open casks and shovels to take out Sugar. The Watermen procured as many boats as were needed, the Lumpers unstowed the casks in the hold and the Coopers took of the heads of the casks, and all hands assisted with filling bags and loading into their boats.
Heavy-Horsemen or Day Plunderer – These criminals would pilfer whatever they could from a ship or lighter, often while working on the transfer of cargo. They would often use an undergarment, called a “Jemmy, with pockets before and behind; also with long narrow bags or pouches, which, when filled were lashed to their legs and thighs, and concealed under wide trousers”. They would carry off vast amounts of Sugars, Coffee, Cocoa, Ginger, and Colquhoun quotes one instance where s single gang stole enough sugar, that, despite being sold for half of its actual value, made them £397.
Journeymen Coopers – These workers were employed to repair casks and packages, but in reality many used this work to thieve. For example, when leaving ships in the evening after a day of proper work, they would carry off Sugar, Coffee, and any other articles or goods that were easy to conceal and carry.
Watermen – For theft across the river, a boat would be needed, and unscrupulous Watermen would often provide the boats needed, and take those intent on stealing to their targets on the river. They would keep watch, and afterwards take the gangs and their stolen goods back to shore, and they would receive a payment for their services. Colquhoun provides an example of how a Waterman would work – “A Ship-Master who had been a stranger in the river, finding himself beset by a gang of audacious Lumpers, who insisted on carrying away Plunder in spite of all his exertions to prevent it, while he was engaged on deck in searching these miscreants, a barrel of Sugar which stood in his Cabin was in the course of a few minutes, emptied and removed in bags through the cabin windows, under which a Waterman with his boat lay to receive it, and got clear off without discovery, to the surprise of the Captain when he returned to his cabin.”
Mud-Larks – Where a vessel close to shore was being looted, the Mud-Lark would prowl about in the mud, under the Bow and would receive bags from those on board the vessel, and would carry the bags to shore. Mud-Larks would also prowl around Dock-Gates on the pretext of looking for nails, where their principal object was to receive sheets of Copper and bags of Nails which were thrown to them by dock labourers.
Rat-Catchers – Ships would often be infested with rats, so a Rat-Catcher would provide a valuable service, however many rat-catchers used their work to steal from ships. Rat-Catchers would often work at night to set traps, and at the same time take some of the cargo. They would also revisit the ship whenever they wanted on the pretext of checking and resetting the traps, but again used these opportunities to steal. Rat-catchers were also known to transfer live rats between ships in order to get more business, and to use the opportunity to steal from other ships.
Game-Lightermen – This class of criminal consisted of Lightermen who would steal from the lighters on which they worked. Lighters were used to transfer cargo between ship and land, and between ships, so for a period of time the cargo carried was under the control of one or more Lightermen, who would use the opportunity to take a proportion of the cargo being transferred. Much of this stolen cargo was transferred to a small boat, or skiff, and Colquhoun provides an example of a seizure of a Skiff loaded with a bag of Coffee and 109lb of Sugar whilst in the act of being stolen from a Lighter.
Scuffle-Hunters – These are described by Colquhoun as “literally the lowest class of the community, who are vulgarly denominated the Tag-Rag and Bobtail”. Scuffle-Hunters would hang around the places where goods are being landed on the Quays, and offer assistance as a porter. They would wear long aprons, which allowed them to conceal any goods that they could take, whilst apparently helping the loading or unloading of a ship.
The Warehouses – Whilst Colquhourn does not list a specific name for those who stole from warehouses, he does include warehouses in the list as a place from where individuals or gangs would steal. This included those who specifically entered a warehouse at anytime, day or night, with the intention to steal, as well as those who worked in a warehouse and used the opportunity to pilfer goods.
Based on the above descriptions, it seems amazing that any of the goods traded through the Port of London survived the process, and did not end up in the hands of a Receiver, however even if 5% of traded goods ended up as being stolen, this would still be a value of just over £3 Million in 1798 prices, being stolen every year.
The descriptions help us to understand what life was like on the river, and along the Quays where goods were being loaded and unloaded. It was a place where ship and cargo owners must have been forever on their guard, where boats with a gang of men passing along the river would have been viewed with suspicion by those on ships, and where many of the shops of London sold stolen goods.
As an example of how stolen goods were traded on, Colquhoun gives an example of Thames Street.
Today Thames Street (now Upper and Lower Thames Street) is a much widened street with dual carriageways taking traffic between the eastern and western sides of the City.
In the late 18th century, Thames Street ran along the back of the warehouses and quays that lined the river, and as with most of London at the time, there were many Pubs both along Thames Street and in the surrounding streets.
It was in these Pubs that stolen goods were sold. Journeymen Coopers would take their Boards of Sugar, and small Grocers would purchase this sugar with fictious Bills of Parcels used to cover the transfer of stolen property from the Pubs to their shops and houses.
Print from 1801, the year after Colquhoun’s book was published, showing the Thames, busy with shipping:
There is too much in Colquhourn’s book to cover in a single post, so I will explore the Port of London and Policing the Port in more detail in the coming months, but for now I return to the obituary published a few months after his death, to provide a summary of his other achievements:
He established a society at Lloyd’s, with some of the most respectable merchants, to assist the poor and the needy by the distribution of soup, potatoes, herrings etc.
In 1806, he proposed the establishment of Savings Banks “to lead the poor by gentle and practicable means into the way of bettering themselves”
He was “so highly esteemed in the dominions of His Majesty, as on the Continent of Europe, that the colonies of St. Vincent, Nevis, Dominica and the Virgin Islands, as also the Free Hanseatic Republics of Lubec, Bremen and Hamburg, nominated him their Representative and Consul General”
As well as his two books on policing, he also published a book on the “Power, Wealth, and Resources, of the British Empire”, along with other publications on Criminal Justice, Political Economy, and on Commerce and Manufacture of Great Britain
He was one of the first five who met and formed the Royal Institution (this was the meeting on the 7 March 1799 at the Soho Square house of Joseph Banks. I can not immediately find any confirmation of this)
He was a Member of the Society for bettering the condition of the Poor
The University of Glasgow conferred the distinction of Doctor of Law, and he was granted the Freedom of the City of Edinburgh
The obituary ended with a summary that he had “a mind fertile in conception, kind and benevolent in disposition, and bold and persevering in execution; ever ready to give his advice and assistance when his means enabled him to do so, and that his long and laborious life was honourable to himself and useful to his Country”.
There were some criticisms of his approach, that he was too much on the side of Commerce and Capitalism. His view on the poor also seems to have followed the 19th century view of the “deserving poor”, as Colquhoun in some of his publications appears to divide the poor into those who deserve help, and the criminal poor, who only deserve the full force of the law, and this can be seen earlier in the post with his use of “species of Depredation”, or “Classes”.
His book on the Commerce and Police of the River Thames does provide us with a very comprehensive view of the Port of London, at the end of the 18th century, a time when the London Docks were about to enter a period of rapid expansion.
I will explore this brief period of London’s history in more detail, using Colquhoun’s book in future posts.
Towards the end of last year, I published a number of posts about the Royal Docks also crossing the river via the Woolwich Ferry and Foot Tunnel to North Woolwich.
Starting by the approach to the ferry, if I look to the east, there is a walkway along the side of the river, with a pier running into the river at the end of the walkway:
The shed like building at the entrance to the pier (P in the above map):
A look inside confirms that the pier is derelict, although the metal framework to the pier looks substantial, the wooden flooring has decayed:
The pier is here because of the adjacent North Woolwich Station, which is just across the road from the pier.
When the station opened in 1847, there was nothing much on the north side of the river that needed a railway, but it was built to serve the town of Woolwich across the river, and the station did soon lead to developments on the north bank.
So that those living or working in Woolwich could reach the station, a ferry was needed, and two piers were built, one on the south and one on the north banks of the river. The pier on the southern side has long gone, but the north pier remains:
The shed at the end provided a rudimentary, covered waiting area and also included a small ticketing kiosk.
Initially two steam ferries of the Eastern Counties Railway, the “Kent” and the “Essex” crossed the river from this pier (when the service opened, North Woolwich was still part of the County of Kent, where it would remain for over another 100 years).
A third boat, the “Middlesex” arrived in 1879, followed by the “Woolwich” which replaced the original “Kent” and “Essex”.
Soon after the opening of the service, the South Eastern Railway had opened a rail service direct to Woolwich, and the Woolwich Free Ferry arrived in 1889.
Despite the challenges of the direct rail service to Woolwich and the Free Ferry, the ferry service operated by what was now the Great Eastern Railway, continued until 1908, when it was no longer financially viable, and closed.
The pier on the south of the river was soon demolished, however the pier at North Woolwich became a calling point for steam boats providing a service out to Southend and Margate.
The number of ferries using the pier tailed off significantly after the Second World War, and the last record I can find of the pier being used for ferry traffic was in August 1950, when children from the Hay Currie School in Poplar boarded a boat at the pier for a trip along the Thames.
Perhaps the strangest use for the pier was in April 1983 when a 112 pound bomb was dredged up from the Thames near Waterloo Bridge.
The bomb was defused at the scene, then taken by boat down to North Woolwich Pier, where it was transferred to a lorry, which took the bomb to Shoeburyness, where it was safely exploded.
The walkway along the river runs up to a raised platform next to the pier, and this is the opposite side of the shed at the land side end of the pier:
On the platform is this rather good information panel showing key places in North Woolwich, with a brief paragraph about their history:
The North Woolwich Pier was built to provide rail passengers with transport to and from Woolwich, and opposite the pier is the old station building:
As mentioned earlier, and in my posts about the Royal Docks, North Woolwich Station arrived before the construction of any of the Royal Docks. The line and original wooden station building opened in 1847 by Eastern Counties Railway, who in July 1847, “gave an excursion train on Monday last, from Ely to London, Woolwich, Greenwich and Gravesend, the company being taken by the new line to the North Woolwich Station, where steamers were in readiness to carry them whither their inclination led them. About 250 persons availed them of the trip. The train returned to Cambridge by 9 o’clock.”
I can imagine that if you lived in the Cambridgeshire city of Ely in 1847, London, as well as places such as Woolwich, Greenwich and Gravesend, along with all the river traffic and trade, would have been perhaps a once in a lifetime trip, certainly a trip to some of the rarely visited parts of a dynamic part of London (or Kent as it was then, however many newspaper reports referred to North Woolwich as being in Essex).
The station building that we see today was built in 1854, and by the end of the 19th century, we can see the station and rail tracks in the following extract from the OS map. (North Woolwich Pier is in the green circle, a hotel (see next in the post) is in the red oval, and causeway (see later in post) is in the blue oval. The station is to the left of the red oval) (Map ‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“):
The following extract from the 1927 edition of the Railway Clearing House Official Railway Map of London and its Environs shows the railways around the full Royal Docks complex, with the North Woolwich branch heading down, between the Victoria and Albert Docks, to the station which terminated the branch:
And in the following enlargement, we can see the two, competing, ferries across the river, the Free Ferry and the London and North Eastern Ferry (the former Eastern Counties Railway):
The 1854 station building was taken out of use in 1979 during a period of major maintenance to the North Woolwich branch line, and a new station building was constructed to the south of the station, alongside what is now Pier Road:
The old station remained empty until 1984 when it was opened as a railway museum by the Passmore Edwards Trust.
The North Woolwich branch line closed in December 2006, and the museum closed two years later.
I checked the Historic England map of listings, and the 1854 station building is Grade II listed.
The building is now occupied by the New Covenant Church.
Going back to the extract from the OS map. within the red oval is a building marked as a hotel. The hotel was the Royal Pavilion Hotel, and at the rear and to the north of the hotel were the Royal Pavilion Pleasure Gardens – gardens that would lead to the Royal Victoria Gardens, the open space with trees shown to the right of the hotel.
The hotel and pleasure gardens were there because of North Woolwich Station (shown to the left of the red oval in the above map), and the pier.
When the line was completed, and the station opened in 1847, much of this part of North Woolwich was empty and undeveloped. The Royal Victoria Dock to the north would not open until 1855.
In the 19th century, as the railways expanded across the country, the opening of a new station was often associated with the opening of a hotel, and even in what must have been the empty and windswept shores of the Thames at North Woolwich, the Royal Pavilion was built facing the station, and adjacent to the pier.
Pleasure Gardens were often found across London by the river, and to attract customers, the hotel opened the Royal Pavilion Pleasure Gardens, with an aim of attracting customers from Woolwich via the ferry, or from the rest of London via the railway.
An advert in the Kentish Independent on the 24th of July, 1852 reads:
Royal Pavilion Pleasure Gardens – North Woolwich – Admission Sixpence
THE ABOVE GARDENS will be opened to the Public THIS DAY (SATURDAY)
A talented Quadrille and Brass Band will be in attendance, Conductor, MR. GRATTAN COOKE. Refreshments, White Bait, Wines &c., of the best quality will be served in the gardens, and the Royal Pavilion Hotel.
Trains leave the East Counties Railway, Bishopsgate Station, calling at Mile End, Stratford Bridge, and Barking Road, at a Quarter before and a Quarter after the Hour (One o-Clock excepted) throughout the day.
Steam Packets leave Hungerford Bridge, and London Bridge and the intermediate Piers, every Twenty Minutes. The Eastern Counties Railway Company’s Steam Packets ply between the Pavilion Pier and the Town of Woolwich, constantly throughout the day.
In August, 1952, the Pleasure Gardens were advertising “SPLENDID ILLUMINATIONS, Fireworks by Cotton of Vauxhall”, with “Gala Nights, Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Fireworks at Half-past Ten.”
It must have seemed rather a strange place to have a Pleasure Gardens, however given the location next to the river, and the lack of development, I can imagine that this was a rather good place to spend a summer’s evening in the 1850s, however this isolation would not last long, as the Royal Victoria Dock opened in 1855, and around the same time, plots of land were being advertised for sale for building, and adverts of these mentioned the proximity to the Royal Pavilion Pleasure Gardens.
The following 1956 revision of the OS map shows the hotel was then a Public House. The space is now occupied by a new block of flats. The map also shows how the tracks at North Woolwich station had expanded to the west of the station building, with space for goods traffic as well as holding trains (Map ‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“):
Looking around the back of the station building, we can still see the cast iron supports for the canopy that was once at the rear of the station:
And a sign along the fence shows the use to which the area to the rear of the station was put in the recent past:
Leaving the old station and pier, I am continuing east along the river walkway, which runs along the southern edge of the Royal Victoria Gardens:
The Royal Victoria Gardens occupy much of the space of the old Royal Pavilion Pleasure Gardens.
The Pleasure Gardens continued in use until the late 1880s. They were very popular, and there are newspaper reports of the crowds that would head to the gardens in the summer, however by the end of the 1880s the pleasure gardens were in financial trouble, and the gardens were taken over by the London County Council, and renamed as the Royal Victoria Gardens.
The gardens suffered much bomb damage during the last war, resulting in the loss of many of the original features of the gardens, which included features such as an Italian garden, a maze, flower beds and a rifle range, however the gardens remain a really good area of green space, with the added benefit of being alongside the River Thames.
The walk along the river is part of the North Woolwich Trail organised by the “Ports of Call” initiative, with “Works of art at the Royal Docks”.
There is an interesting example of industrial machinery in the Royal Victoria Gardens:
This is a steam hammer, dating from 1888, and was from the blacksmith’s shop of R.H. Green and Silley Wier Ltd, at the Royal Albert Docks, on the site of what are today, the buildings of London City Airport. The steam hammer was installed in the gardens in 1994.
Looking back along the walkway between the Thames and the Royal Victoria Gardens, with the pier of the Woolwich Free Ferry in the distance:
Continuing along the walkway along the river, the gardens are replaced by blocks of flats, and I have come to the first of two small docks, where there is a sloping causeway into the river, which the walkway bends around:
This first one is not named. It is shown on the OS maps earlier in the post, so it was here in the late 19th century, when it was at the end of what is now Woolwich Manor Way. I also checked the Port of London Authority listing of all the “Steps, Stairs and Landing Places on the Tidal Thames”, and whilst it is clearly a well built and useable landing place, the PLA listing makes no reference to the dock.
Continuing along the river walkway:
And I come to the dock which is shown on the maps, and is in the PLA listing. This is Bargehouse Causeway:
In the PLA listing, it is called “Old Barge House Drawdock”, and the listing states that there were “Stone setts on wooden piles”. The OS maps do not name the causeway, but show that a causeway extended out from the dock, however if this still exists, it was not visible due to the state of the tide during my visit.
The word Drawdock refers to a place where a boat could be drawn out from the river.
The sign on the pole states that there is no mooring and the causeway is not in use for personal water craft. The location of the pole probably makes the causeway difficult to use as it is placed in the middle of the approach to the landing place.
Although it is just Bargehouse Causeway today, the use of the name Old Barge House Drawdock in the PLA listing provides a better indication of its age.
The causeway is the site of one of the first ferries between what is now North Woolwich, and the town of Woolwich, between what was Essex and Kent, and was first mentioned in 1308.
There are very few mentions of the ferry up until the end of the 18th century, and in the following decades the ferry at Old Barge House Drawdock seems to have been a very active place.
It was in use for foot passengers crossing the Thames, as well as farmers taking their produce to market, with a frequent route being Kent farmers taking cattle to market in Romford.
The name of the draw dock seems to have come from the home of one of the early operators of the ferry, who had dragged up an old barge from the river, and lived in the barge above the shoreline.
In the OS maps shown earlier in the post, you can see a building with the PH for Public House, and the pub was on the site of the old barge, and took the name of the Old Barge Inn.
During much of the 19th century, the ferry was very busy, and the Army also introduced their own ferry between Woolwich and Old Barge House Drawdock.
Such was the popularity of the crossing, one of the operators of the ferry embarked on the following works, reported in the Kentish Mercury on the 9th of May, 1840:
“WOOLWICH FERRY – Mr. Thomas Howe, proprietor of the Old Barge House, Woolwich Ferry, has nearly completed the embankment of the Thames, which he commenced during the latter end of last summer. The esplanade now formed is about one thousand feet in length, with a depth of one hundred and fifty, and is raised to the height of twenty feet above high-water mark.
The whole level has been laid down with grass turf, and surrounded by a neat railing, and when completed will form one of the most pleasing promenades on the banks of the Thames, commanding, as it does a perfect view of Woolwich, with its Dock-yard and Arsenal, together with Plumstead, Shooter’s Hill, and the delightful scenery of Kent.
Upwards of one thousand barge-loads of rubbish have been employed in forming this embankment. The traffic between the two counties has increased about one hundred per cent since the improvement on this ferry commenced. The thousands who pass the ‘Old Barge House’ will scarcely observe that this favourite spot in in the county of Kent, notwithstanding it is situated on the Essex shore.”
Strange to think whilst standing at the dock, that this was once described as one of the most pleasing promenades on the banks of the Thames, however it was rare for a large area of space, with good transport connections, and green space, to be found along the river. The Victoria Embankment had yet to be built, and much of the river, on both north and south banks was industrialised, so I can imagine that this place in North Woolwich was a very pleasant place to visit.
What killed off the ferry from the Old Barge House Drawdock, was the opening in 1889 of the Woolwich Free Ferry. A ferry where you had to pay to cross the river could not compete with a free ferry which was a very short distance away.
The view towards the east, along the Thames from the concrete ramp at Old Barge House Causeway:
Walking up from the Barge House Causeway / Drawdock, requires walking up a ramp, and then steps or a longer ramp to get down to Barge House Road, which leads up to Albert Road.
The road is obviously named after the pub (which stood to the left of the following photo), and the old drawdock, and the barge used at some point as a home by an operator of the ferry:
This was such an interesting, short walk.
Royal Victoria Gardens is a lovely open space along the river, which owes its existence to the Royal Pavilion Pleasure Gardens and the associated hotel, once at the western end of the gardens, and the promenade built by the owner of the Barge House pub at the eastern end of the gardens.
These were both places that were built due to the availability of adjacent transport routes, and seem to have been places that attracted thousands of visitors to North Woolwich in the decades around the middle of the 19th century.
The need for the ramp and river walkway walls to built up, can be seen from the above photo, where the low lying area of North Woolwich is today still protected from high tides by large concrete walls and ramps.
It would be interesting to find out if any of the “one thousand barge-loads of rubbish” that were used to formed the embankment in 1840 is still there, as I suspect it would offer an interesting look into mid-19th century life.
I hope to be offering some walks around North Woolwich and the Royal Docks later in the year – if I can get organised in time, as this is a really interesting part of east London to explore.
The following photo is from the 1890s book, “The Queen’s London”, and shows the Water Gate between Buckingham Street and the Embankment Gardens:
The caption underneath the photo reads: “In a corner of the public gardens on the Victoria Embankment, at the foot of Buckingham Street, is the ancient Water Gate to York House, a mansion begun by Inigo Jones for the first Duke of Buckingham. It is a beautiful monument of the famous architect’s skill, and can challenge comparison with similar work by any of the Italian masters. The old Water Gate is the earliest ornamental archway in London. It is interesting, moreover, as showing the former level of the Thames. This part of town was a very different place once, when the nobles fancied it for their mansions, or even prior to the making of the Embankment, when it was regularly lapped by the tide.”
The above description, written around 130 years ago applies equally today, and the Water Gate has been a regular feature in books that covered the key features of the city at the time of publication, and the Water Gate made another appearance in the 1920s volumes of “Wonderful London”:
Apart from the architecture, the really fascinating thing about the Water Gate is that it shows how much of the Thames was taken up by the construction of the Embankment, and with a walk up Buckingham Street, it demonstrates the topography of the area, and how we can still see the relatively steep descent from the Strand down to the foreshore of the river.
Rocque’s 1746 map shows the Water Gate and surrounding streets as they were in the middle of the 18th century. They are shown in the following extract, in the middle of the map, where the Water Gate is part of York Buildings Stairs:
The map shows that the Water Gate faced directly onto the Thames foreshore, and whilst the Water Gate was an unusual feature for Thames Stairs, York Buildings Stairs were just another of the Thames Stairs that lined the river, and looking along the river in 1746, we can see other stairs. Salisbury Stairs, Ivy Bridge, Black Lyon Stairs and Hungerford Stairs, all lost with the construction of the Embankment.
The Embankment was built between the mid 1860s and the early 1870s (there are various dates either side of these dates, dependent on exactly what start and completion meant), and around 15 years before the start of construction, John Wykeham Archer created the following water colour of the Water Gate:
The Thames was much wider before the construction of the Embankment, and the foreshore would have been a much shallower slope down to the centre of the river.
The above image shows grass growing across part of the foreshore, and a sunken boat to the right.
The sunken boat must have been just one of thousands of old wooden boats that were abandoned on the river and gradually decayed, sank, and became part of the river’s story. This has been happening from at least the Roman period, and on the southern side of the river, a Roman boat was discovered when excavating the ground ready for the build of County Hall.
Also in the above image, there is a brick wall along the back of the Water Gate. Whilst this may have been to keep back very high tides on the river, its primary purpose seems to have been to create a terrace along the side of the river, as the street was called Terrace Walk.
In the 1746 map, the stairs are called York Buildings Stairs, and this name tells of the building that the Water Gate was once part of, and that once occupied the streets behind the Water Gate in the 1746 map.
The building was York House, shown in the following print, with the Water Gate shown with steps down to the river:
The building that would eventually become known as York House was built around 1237 for the Bishops of Norwich, and was then known as Norwich Place. This was the time when Bishops from around the country had a London town house as a London base, to be near the Royal Court, in which to entertain etc. (for another example, see my post on Winchester Palace).
The Bishops of Norwich maintained ownership of the house until Henry VIII gave the house to the Duke of Suffolk in 1536, granting the Bishop a smaller house in Cannon Row, Westminster.
Mary I then took the house and gave it to the Arch Bishop of York, and this is when the house took the name of York House. From then on, the house went through a series of owners who seem to have gained or lost possession of the house at the whim of Royal favour.
The Water Gate dates from George Villiers, the Duke of Buckingham’s ownership of the house, when he carried out extensive repairs and had the Water Gate built in around 1626.
The caption to the photo from the Queen’s London at the top of the post, attributes the repairs and the Water Gate to Inigo Jones, however there is doubt about this and the Historic England listing for the Water Gate (Grade I) states that it was “executed by Nicholas Stone but the design also attributed to Sir Balthazar Gerbier”, and that the alterations to York House carried out at the same time were also by Gerbier, rather than Jones.
The Water Gate and stairs down to the river would have provided a private landing place, enabling the occupants of York House to take a boat along the river, or to return home, without having to use the streets, or a public landing place. The Water Gate would also have stood out along the north bank of the river, and would have been a statement, and an impressive place for visitors to arrive.
York House was demolished in the 1670s, with only the Water Gate surviving. The land behind was developed by Nicholas Barbon into the network of streets we see today.
George Villiers, the 2nd Duke of Buckingham imposed a rather unusual condition on the redevelopment, in that the streets that were to be built spelled out his full title, so if we go back to Rocque’s 1746 map, we can see his full title, including the “of” with Of Alley. I have numbered the street in the order in which they appear in his full title:
The Water Gate lost its connection with the River Thames with the construction of the Embankment between the mid 1860s and the early 1870s. This created the roadway, the Victoria Embankment, walkway along the river, with large retaining walls along the river.
Between the Victoria Embankment and the Water Gate are Embankment Gardens, and part of the gardens and Victoria Embankment are built over what is now the Circle and District Line, along with the sewage system designed by Sir Joseph Bazalgette, which was much needed to avoid sewage being discharged directly into the Thames.
The Water Gate is now a considerable distance from the river, and if the distance measure feature on Google maps is accurate, the Water Gate is now 129 metres from the river – a distance which shows the considerable size of the construction work that formed the gardens and Victoria Embankment.
After the construction of the Victoria Embankment, and the gardens, there was concern about the future of the Water Gate, which by the end of the 1870s was in a very poor state, and in urgent need of restoration.
There were also proposals that the Water Gate should also be moved to sit on the new Embankment wall, facing onto the river. Whilst this would have continued the gate’s original purpose, it would have been completely out of context, and there was no need for such a water gate onto the river as using a waterman to row you along the river was by the late 19th century a redundant mode of travel.
Building News of November 1879 covered the issues with, and proposals for the Water Gate:
“The Metropolitan Board of Works have at last turned their attention to the deplorable condition of York Stairs, or Buckingham Gate, as it is sometimes called, now half buried in the newly made slopes of the Embankment-gardens.
Designed to face with its best aspect the fashionable highway of the day – the river, the building became almost forgotten when that time passed away, until the Embankment again brought the public to its proper front. It is undoubtably a relic worth preserving on account of its artistic merits, independent of the historic interest attached to it.
We wait with interest to learn of the Metropolitan Board of Works with regard to its ‘restoration’. It is hoped that better judgement will be exercised by that practical body than has been in some similar instances.
There can be little question that to allow it to retain its original site must be the best plan. Under some circumstances it might be desirable that such a structure should follow the retreated river margin; but the lines of the modern Embankment, however beautiful in themselves, would be utterly discordant with the old-style water gate. And again, the river is no longer the highway from which the majority of people view our public buildings.
We are glad to see that something is to be done. As we pointed out in a former number, it is quite time the neglected ornament was reinstated to a position of the dignity it deserves.”
One of the proposals for the water gate, to reunite it with the river whilst maintain it in its original position, was to run a pipe from the river, under the Embankment, over the rail tracks of the new cut and cover railway, and to a large pond around the water gate.
This would bring river water to fill the pond, and the construction of the sewer under the new Embankment was expected to ensure that the river water would now be clean. This proposal did not get carried out.
Rather the water gate was restored, and the surroundings of the water gate landscaped, to bring it to a similar state that we see today. The work was carried out by the London County Council (who took over the responsibilities of the Metropolitan Board of Works), and completed in the early 1890s.
A look behind the water gate, and we can start to see the difference in land levels, with steps up to the southern end of Buckingham Street:
In the above photo the railings and steps are all Grade II listed, and are described as “Mid C.18. Cast iron and Portland stone”.
What was Terrace Walk in 1746 is now Watergate Walk, here looking to the west, and steps up to Villiers Street:
And to the east towards York Buildings:
The rear of the Water Gate:
The rear of the Water Gate in 1862, as painted by John Wykeham Archer in 1862, just before the construction of the Victoria Embankment and gardens:
Buckingham Street is one of those London streets where the majority of the buildings that line the street have listed status.
In the photo below, the end of terrace building is a 1679-80 town house, built as part of Barbon’s development of the area. It was somewhat rebuilt later in the 17th, and again in the 18th centuries:
A plaque on the building states that Samuel Pepys lived in a house on the site, which must have been the original Barbon development:
Next to the houses in the photo above, is the house shown in the photo below, Grade I listed, with the listing dating it as “c.1676-77 with early C.19 and later alterations”, and as being again part of Barbon’s development of the land formerly occupied by York House:
This house also has a plaque claiming Samuel Pepys as a resident, and it appears he lived in the house between 1679 and 1688, when he stayed with William Hewer and that the house was partly in use as the Admiralty Office:
Looking up the full length of Buckingham Street, we can see the way the land gradually rises in height, up to the rear of the building at the very far end, which has a frontage onto the Strand:
One of the very few buildings on Buckingham Street which is not listed, is this building on the south east corner of the street:
The building that was originally on the site was once the home of William Smith – the father of English Geology:
The rear of the water gate from the southern end of Buckingham Street, which again shows the height difference between the street and the gate:
Another house from Barbon’s development of the area. Grade II* listed as a terraced town house, and dating from between 1675 and 1676:
As we approach the northern end of Buckingham Street, where John Adam Street crosses, we can better see the height difference with the rear of the building at the far end, which has a frontage on the Strand. Steps run up from John Adam Street, and the remaining section of the now renamed Of Alley is at the top of the stairs:
One of the interesting aspects of walking the streets between the Strand and the Embankment is the wide variety of architectural styles we can find. The result of the redevelopment of small plots of land over the centuries.
On the corner of Buckingham Street and John Adams Street is the following Grade II listed corner house and office, built around 1860 by R. P. Pullan:
Walking back to the Embankment Gardens, and this is the view towards the west. The Water Gate can be seen lurking low down on the right:
The above view shows just how much the area in front of the Water Gate has changed.
For roughly the first 240 years of the water gate’s existence, it was looking out directly onto the River Thames, and was used as a placed where people could catch a boat to travel across or along the river.
For the last 155 years, the Water Gate has lost contact with the river, now 129 metres to the south, and it looks out across a very different view.
The York Buildings Stairs / Water Gate are also another example of how we have significantly reduced the width of the River Thames over the centuries, and how the river now runs in a channel, rather than a river with a gradually descending and wider foreshore.
Woolwich has the distinction of having two unique ways of the crossing the River Thames. There is one of two, dedicated foot tunnels under the river (the other is at Greenwich), and it is the only place on the river where there is a combined vehicle and foot passenger ferry across the river, which has the added bonus of being free.
I have not used either of these crossings for around 20 years, so when I was walking around the Royal Docks for my previous posts, it seemed the idea opportunity to use the tunnel and ferry again, and I could also use London’s latest bit of transport infrastructure, the Elizabeth Line which runs to Woolwich, to get there.
The river is a short walk from the Elizabeth Line station, and a short distance away, there is a sign offering the two choices to cross the river:
The location of the entrance to the foot tunnel is not immediately clear. There is a small street (Glass Yard) heading off Woolwich High Street, where the above sign is located, you need to walk to the end of this street, turn right, and the tunnel entrance is hidden behind the Waterfront Leisure Centre:
The entrance on the north bank of the river is far more obvious as it stands alone, as can be seen in the following photo from across the river:
Although the entrance to the foot tunnel is hidden behind the leisure centre, it is the crossing point of a number of walking and cycling routes as illustrated by the rather comprehensive sign outside the entrance:
The Thames Path – where to the east it is 8.75 miles to Crayford Ness. The Capital Ring, where it is 35 miles to Richmond Bridge, The Thames Cycle Path with Greenwich to the west (6 miles) and Erith to the east (6.5 miles),
The bottom left sign informs that North Woolwich Station is a quarter of a mile away via the foot tunnel, which is rather out of date as North Woolwich Station closed in 2006.
The brick entrances to the Woolwich foot tunnel are Grade 2 listed, and the Historic England listing describes these structures in a far better way than I can:
Despite the fact of the Grade II listing, the unique status as being one of only two foot tunnels under the Thames in London, and that the tunnel is still in use, the Leisure Centre has been built up against the structure, as closely as it possibly could be, as illustrated by the following photo:
The Woolwich Foot Tunnel opened in 1912, when Woolwich already had a free ferry across the river, so you may well ask, if there was a ferry, why go to all the expense of building a tunnel under the river?
The local newspapers covered the opening of the tunnel, and the first paragraph in their accounts provides the justification for the tunnel:
“In spite of the County Council’s efforts to provide a frequent and regular service between North and South Woolwich, two causes have mitigated against the continuous working of the ferry – fog, and, in exceptionally severe winters, ice. The stoppages, especially those from fog, usually occurred during the early morning when workpeople had to cross the river to their labours, and serious hardship was thus inflicted on a large number of people. With these facts before it, the County Council recognised that the service would have to be supplemented, and in November 1908, they submitted to Parliament a scheme for the construction of a tunnel for foot passengers between the north and south districts.
It was pointed out that if such a tunnel were constructed it would no longer be necessary to provide a continuous service of ferry boats. The necessary sanction having been obtained tenders were invited and that of Messrs. Walter Scott and Middleton Ltd., amounting to £78,860 was accepted.”
My last few posts on the Royal Docks has hopefully highlighted the size of these docks, and therefore the amount of people needed to work across them. Add to that, the industry that occupied the land between the docks and the river, all contributed to a significant demand for workers, many of whom would have lived on the south of the river in Woolwich, and for whom, the ferry would have been essential to their employment on the north of the river.
The following postcard was issued to mark the opening of the tunnel on the 26th of October, 1912 by Lord Cheylesmore, who was Chairman of the London County Council:
The photo for postcard was by a Woolwich photographer, although I cannot be sure whether the photo is off the Woolwich or the North Woolwich tunnel entrance. The opening ceremony was held at the southern entrance, however I cannot place the features seen around the entrance in maps of the area around the time of the tunnel opening.
When the tunnel was opened, the entrance was in Nile Street, a short, wide street that led to the South Pontoon, from where the Woolwich Ferry could also be taken, so unlike today, the foot tunnel entrance was collocated with the ferry approach, so if the ferry was not running, the passengers could simply divert down the tunnel.
Today, the tunnel entrance is separate to the tunnel approach.
Early photos and postcards often had crowds looking at the photographer, possibly the novelty of seeing a photographer. In the above photo there is a baby or young child in white, in the centre of the crowd. It would be fascinating to know the stories of these young Woolwich residents:
Walking into the entrance to the tunnel, and there is a large No Cycling sign above a spiral stairway that leads down to the tunnel:
The view along the tunnel from the base of the southern entrance:
Lift at the base of the southern entrance:
The newspaper article covering the opening of the tunnel provides some background to its design and construction:
“The new tunnel, which was begun in May, 1910, was designed by, and carried out under the supervision of the Chief Engineer of the London County Council, Sir Maurice Fitzmaurice. It closely resembles the Greenwich Tunnel, which was opened in 1902. It consists of a cast iron tube, of 12ft. 6in. outside diameter, connecting two vertical shafts of 25ft. inside diameter, and about 60 ft. deep.
The length between the shafts is 1,635 ft., or nearly one third of a mile. The thickness of the river bed between the top of the tunnel and the river is about 10 ft. at the deepest place. Electric lifts have been provided to accommodate forty passengers each. A fair day’s progress in tunnelling was 8ft. 6in. The ground passed through was almost entirely chalk, with numerous fissures, which were in free communication with the river. The cost has been about £85,000.”
Sir Maurice Fitzmaurice, who designed and supervised the construction of the Woolwich foot tunnel was also responsible for the Rotherhithe tunnel, where construction started in 1904 and the tunnel opened in 1908.
As you walk through the tunnel, it is good to know that there is 10 feet between the top of the tunnel and the bed of the River Thames:
There are plenty of very obvious signs that state there is to be no cycling through the tunnel. During my walk through there were two cyclists. One was wearing a high-vis jacket, obviously going either to or from work, and was cycling very slowly – which was fine given how empty the tunnel was of walkers (only me and one other), however half way along I heard a whooshing sound behind me, and one cyclist, on a racing bike, wearing a helmet, sped past, looking like he was doing a time trial through the tunnel. In the time between passing me, and me lifting my camera, he was the distance from me as shown in the following photo:
The problem of cycling through the tunnel has been around since the tunnel opened. In June 1913 the Woolwich Gazette and Plumstead News reported the following:
“FOOT TUNNEL CYCLING – Hebert F. Clarke of 1. Chertsey Road, Leytonstone was summoned for riding a bicycle through Woolwich Foot Tunnel. George Hunter of 28 The Parade, Grove Green Road, Leytonstone, was also summoned. Each fined 2s.”
It is remarkable how many tunnels under the Thames opened in a very short period of time, and much was made of the cost of the Woolwich tunnel compared with the others:
1897 – The Blackwall Tunnel. Cost £1,300,000
1902 – Greenwich Foot Tunnel. Cost £180,000
1908 – The Rotherhithe Tunnel. Cost £1,000,000
1912 – The Woolwich Foot Tunnel. Cost £87,000
Infrastructure getting cheaper is something we can only dream of today.
Approaching the southern end of the tunnel:
The decision to build a foot tunnel at Woolwich, highlights the challenges of planning for the future.
At the opening ceremony, it was stated that the need for a subway had been emphaised by recent fogs, which had interfered with the working of the ferry.
Lord Cheylesmore stated during his speech at the opening ceremony that (referencing the decision to open the ferry. twenty-one years earlier) “If future requirements had then been realised it was possible that a vehicular tunnel would have been constructed in the first place.”
It is always a problem when constructing any large transport / infrastructure project, to know whether an alternative design would better serve future requirements. The problem is that waiting for those future requirements to become clear, results in nothing being built. Building now risks it being outdated in the future.
The opening ceremony was held in Nile Street, the access road to the ferry, with the tunnel entrance alongside. Nile Street is now under the Waterfront Leisure Centre, and the ferry pier has moved slightly to the west.
At the southern end of the tunnel, the lift was not working, so it was up the stairs for the 60 ft. of the access shaft:
Back up to the surface on the north of the river, and here the access building is identical to that on the south of the river, although here it is in open space, with no surrounding buildings:
Outside there are direction signs for the Capital Ring and on a separate post, direction signs for local buses and a DLR station. Fortunately no sign for North Woolwich Station on this side of the river:
One of the new Superloop branded buses stops outside the tunnel entrance:
New building close to the entrance to the tunnel which is alongside the approach road to the Woolwich Ferry:
The new tunnel had an impact on one of the oldest professions on the river. In the year after the tunnel was opened, the London County Council paid out £15 to each of the sixteen remaining Woolwich ferrymen, who once rowed people across the river.
One of the ferrymen was a 60 years old who had been on the river “since he was six weeks old”, and knew “every mudbank and creek from Kingston to Dover and Yarmouth”, and as well as a ferryman had worked on lighters, as well as being a sailor.
He complained that “I’ve worked hard and straight, I’ve helped the police and I’ve helped my passengers. I have saved lives and property. I have been proud to be a freeman of the river, and now, when I am old, they go and dig a hole below it and rob me of my trade. It isn’t fair.”
Following the opening of the tunnel, there were ongoing challenges with the costs of running and maintaining both the ferry and the tunnel, with some attempts to reduce the hours that the lifts down to the tunnel operated (which were soon restored), and the number of ferry crossings, which were reduced slightly, however the ever increasing volumes of motor traffic meant that any reduction in ferry crossings was short lived.
The northern tunnel entrance:
From close to the tunnel entrance, we can see the current terminal of the Woolwich Free Ferry:
The northern tunnel access which is in a very different environment from the hidden and enclosed location of the southern. Hopefully with all the new building planned for this part of North Woolwich, it will stay in the open:
The opening ceremony for the tunnel was held in Woolwich on the southern side of the river. After the speeches and formal parts of the ceremony, Lord Cheylesmore along with the other dignitaries who had attended the ceremony descended down to the tunnel and walked to North Woolwich.
After emerging from the tunnel entrance shown in the above photo, they took the Woolwich Free Ferry back to Woolwich, and that it what I will now do.
Walking to the pier that leads to the ferry – the access road bends to the left at the end of the end of the orange cones:
As you walk onto the road leading up to where the ferry boards, we can see the old walkway that was to the immediate west of the approach to the ferry. In the following photo, there is a large anchor in the gap between the bushes:
Looking along the approach to where the ferry boards:
As you walk up to the ferry, there are some brilliant views along the river. In the following photo, the Thames Barrier stretches across the river, and on the right is where the ships carrying sugar cane dock for unloading into the Tate & Lyle factory:
Where vehicles and foot passengers board the ferry:
The Woolwich Ferry is currently a two ferry service, with a departure every 15 minutes from five in the morning until nine in the evening. Whilst waiting for the ferry to arrive, you can watch the two ferries perform their synchronised crossing of the Thames:
Facilities are basic, but then with a 15 minute service there is no need for anything more sophisticated. The footpath on the western side of the approach road takes you up to the boarding point, where a bus shelter provides some limited protection from the elements:
The earliest references to a ferry at Woolwich date back to 1308, when it was included in the sale of a house by a waterman named William de Wicton.
The ferry in the 14th century, and the following centuries would have been similar to services provided by watermen along the length of the Thames, where for a fee they would row you across the river.
These services were generally provided from a defined point, usually a set of Thames Stairs or a named place where a street reached the river. This was the case for the ferry at Woolwich, where it ran from Warren Lane at Woolwich (circled red in following 1746 map extract):
To and from the end of the lane in the following map. This point was covered by two separate pages in my copy of Rocque’s map so I have had to show two different map extracts. Where the tip of the red arrow is located was where the lane met the Thames:
The ferry service run by a waterman must have been a very ad-hoc serviuce and he probably spent more of his time rowing people up and down the river. During the 18th century there was very little where North Woolwich is now located. It was all fields, marsh and streams as the above extract demonstrates.
The early years of the 19th century saw the start of more formal ferry services, with the military setting up a ferry for their own use, from Woolwich Arsenal in 1810, and in 1811 a ferry was established by an Act of Parliament, and was run by a company that was called “The Woolwich Ferry Company”, however this service only lasted until 1844.
The demand for a regular, high volume service would come with the development of the area to the north of the river with the Royal Docks and associated industry in the 19th century.
On the 16th of October, 1880, the Kentish Independent reported that “A meeting is advertised for Monday next at the Town Hall to consider the proposed establishment of better communications between South and North Woolwich, embraced in the scheme of the Thames Screw Ferry Company. From the company’s prospectus we learn that they contemplate building two large twin screw boats, with turn-tables on deck and other conveniences for transporting horses and vehicles, together with a saloon for passengers, and that they propose to have landing stages at various positions below London Bridge. As we are chiefly interested in the Woolwich section of the river, where facilities of communication are perhaps more needed than anywhere else, we hope that the promoters will give us their earliest attention. At a moderate calculation it is computed that some 200 carriages will cross the river daily, and with a charge of 6d to 2s according to the number of horses, it is estimated that the speculation will be a profitable one.”
On the same page as the above report, there was a fascinating article on the impact of the electric lights at the Royal Albert Dock, which had only just opened, and was the first London dock to be lit by electric lighting.
Consider that the following was written when London must have been very dark at night, very limited electric lighting, some gas lighting, and not much else after dark:
“THE ALBERT DOCKS – The appearance of the electric lights at the new docks, seen from any eminence where a full view of the whole sweep can be obtained, is on a clear night very striking and beautiful, especially if a position is chosen from which any of the brilliant sparks are seen reflected in the river. In another sense beyond pleasure to the eye, they are beacons of satisfaction to the people of Woolwich, for they typify better days in store, increase in trade, and reduction of local burdens.”
It must have been quite something to stand in Woolwich and look across the river to see the light from the new electric lights along the new dock, and the article also highlights the positive impact that the docks were hoped to have on Woolwich – and for which a ferry was really important, so the residents of Woolwich could benefit from the opportunities opening up on the north of the river.
One of the two Woolwich ferries arriving at the northern pier:
The two new ferries entered service in early 2019, after being delivered from where they were built in Poland.
The ferry in the above photo is named the Ben Wollacott, after the 19 year old deck hand who died in the river in 2011, after being pulled from the ferry while mooring ropes were being untied.
Serco, the company then in charge, was found guilty of failing to ensure the health and safety of its crew, and fined, with costs, a sum of £220,000.
The second of the two new ferries was named the Dame Vera Lynn.
The above photo shows a packed ferry, with a mix of lorries, vans and cars making the free crossing across the river.
And whilst I was waiting for the ferry to arrive, there was a queue of vehicles building to cross from north to south:
There is no ceremony for foot passengers boarding the ferry, the barrier across the walkway lifts and you walk onboard, whilst vehicles are still leaving the ferry:
Which provides a perfect opportunity to see the deck of the ferry before any vehicles have boarded:
The ferries before the current pair had a passenger area below the vehicle deck. With the two new ferries, there is a passenger area at deck level, on one side of the ship, where a corridor is lined with blue plastic seating:
The meeting in Woolwich Town Hall in October 1880 was strongly in support of a new ferry, with the “rapid growth of townships on the north of the river” being a key driver of the need for Woolwich residents to be able to cross the river via regular and reliable services.
In the October 1880 meeting, we also see the demands that the ferry should be free. Many of the bridges over the Thames in west London had recently had the fee dropped for a crossing, so west London bridges were now free to cross, and the Woolwich argument was that the three million people east of London Bridge were paying their rates, which went towards the Metropolitan Board of Works ability to drop the charges for west London bridges, east Londoners should have the same facilities.
Plans then moved quickly, and in 1884, the Metropolitan Board of Works agreed to deliver a free ferry across the river, and in 1887, the construction company Mowlem (who were also responsible for much construction work across the whole of the London docks right up to their closure), was awarded a contract to build the approach to the ferry, pontoons and boarding infrastructure.
The Woolwich Free Ferry opened on the 23rd of March, 1889, and such was the importance of the event that reports of the opening also mentioned that it was made “the occasion of a public holiday in the neighbourhood of Woolwich”.
The service was opened by Lord Rosebery, the chairman of the London County Council, who had just taken over the responsibilities of the Metropolitan Board of Works (and after whom Rosebery Avenue was named).
Two steam ferries had been built for the opening of the service, the Gordon and the Duncan, and they were reported as being “capable of carrying a thousand people and at least a dozen vehicles upon the upper deck”.
The ability to take a thousand people and only twelve vehicles highlights the original need for the ferries, being able to transport large numbers of residents from Woolwich and surrounding areas, to the new employment opportunities that were opening up across the Royal Docks, and the industry along the river.
Local business soon took advantage of the new free ferry in their advertising, with, for example T. Gordon, a maker of hand-sewn boots in 9 Hare Street, Woolwich, heading his adverts with the opening of the Woolwich Free Ferry, and that residents of South and North Woolwich, Silvertown, Canning Town, Plumstead, Charlton and the Surrounding Vicinity could all now “Come and judge for yourselves”, the quality of his boots.
The new service was not without its problems. The ferries were built of pitch-pine “a wood chosen for its self preservative qualities, but unfortunately very inflammable”, and there were occasional fires on the ferry as a result.
There was also a case where the steering on a ferry jammed mid river, with the Captain stopping power so it would not ram the jetty, however the ferry then started drifting in a busy river. On checking the steering gear it was found that a bolt had dropped and jammed the gear, and on removal, the ability to steer was restored.
The bolt was found to be unlike any used in the ferry, so it was assumed to be sabotage.
The ferry crossing in the 1970s:
The following photo shows two of the three ferries built in 1963, and which were replaced by the ferries that we see on the river today. The photo dates from the 1980s, as behind the ferry, on the left edge of the photo, some of the dishes of the BT Docklands Satellite Ground Station, can be seen:
I took the following photo on a Sunday in 2015, I know it was a Sunday as two of the three ferries are moored in the river just to the right of the pier on the left, where there is a single ferry docks:
The following photo shows the Duncan – one of the first boats built for the opening of the ferry service:
The deck is crowded with passengers with what appears to be a mix, including children along with men in military uniforms. The upper deck is crowded with vehicles.
The following photo shows the Gordon, the second of the three ships built for the opening of the ferry. It was named after General Gordon of Khartoum:
Although it does not look that much different from the above ferry, the photo below is of the Will Crooks, built in 1930 as one of the replacements for the original fleet of ferries:
The following photo from the 1920s books “Wonderful London” shows the ferry crossing the river, with a man at one of the Thames stairs in the foreground. There is a rowing boat tied up, so perhaps he is one of the old waterman still hopeful of some business:
The text with the above photo claims that the ferry “conveys about half a million vehicles a year free of charge”, and that the cost to run the ferry was about £25,000 a year.
My view from the ferry of the landing place on the north of the river, from where the ferry had just departed. The round brick building of the tunnel entrance can be seen to the right:
The Tate & Lyle factory:
As I arrive at the southern pier, the Dame Vera Lynn is arriving at the north:
The crossing between Woolwich and north Woolwich is brief, however it does provide the opportunity for some wonderful views across the river. Another view of the Thames Barrier, with the towers of the Isle of Dogs in the background:
Arriving at Woolwich:
The ramp descending:
As with boarding the ferry, when leaving, the barrier lifts and you walk off. A quick look back at the ferry:
The Woolwich ferry approach road:
As I was leaving, a queue was building up ready for the following ferry, and at Woolwich, there is a separate queuing area where vehicles queue before be let on to the approach to the ferry.
The route from south to north seemed much busier than that from north to south. That may just be a time of day thing. I tried to find any detailed statistics of ferry usage on the Greater London Authority and the Transport for London websites, but after a quick search, nothing seemed to be available.
The headline statistics seems to be that the Woolwich ferry carries around two million passengers a year. The vast majority of these will be the occupants of vehicles rather than foot passengers.
The following photo shows the entrance to the ferry at Woolwich:
I did not notice one on the north of the river, but at Woolwich on the south, the ferry has a “River” TfL roundel:
The combination of the two methods of crossing the river at Woolwich are unique. Whilst there is another foot tunnel at Greenwich, there is no other large passenger / vehicle ferry.
The fact that the Woolwich ferry continues to be free is remarkable in today’s financial environment, where so much starts to be attracting a price.
When the new Silvertown tunnel opens, there will be a fee for using the tunnel, and to stop people continuing to use the currently free Blackwall tunnel, a new fee will be introduced for using this old tunnel, the first time in 130 years.
It will be interesting to see if the Silvertown tunnel has an impact on traffic levels on the Woolwich ferry. Theoretically not, as the Silvertown Tunnel follows a similar route to that of the Blackwall tunnel. It could be that traffic on the Woolwich ferry increases to avoid the fees at the Blackwall and Silvertown tunnels, such are the unintended consequences of change.
To introduce a fee for the Woolwich ferry would require an Act of Parliament to amend the act originally brought forward by the Metropolitan Board of Works to introduce the ferry, which specified that the ferry should be free to use.
Today, foot passengers wanting to travel between the north and south sides of the river at Woolwich also have the choice of the DLR which runs from Woolwich Arsenal to the north, as well as the Elizabeth Line which runs from Abbey Wood, to Woolwich, before heading north of the river.
The loss of the docks in the 1980s significantly reduced the number of jobs for residents of the south to commute to on the north. The DLR and Elizabeth Lines have added alternative options, however for a quick, free crossing of the river, the Woolwich Ferry is a wonderful way of seeing the river and getting between north and south Woolwich, and the foot tunnel provides an historic alternative using one of only two surviving foot tunnels under the Thames.
In my final post exploring the Royal Docks, I am looking at the King George V Dock, the last of the three docks that make up the Royals, and was opened in 1921.
I have a copy of the book that was issued to commemorate the opening of the King George V Dock, and at the back of the book are some fold out paper maps, one with a view of all the docks from St. Katherine out to Tilbury, and the following is an extract from the map showing the Royal Docks as they were following completion of the new, third dock (the map is a bit creased. It is 100 years old and of very thin paper so I did not want to put too much pressure on the folds):
The King George V Dock is the dock on the right, below the Royal Albert, and in the map it is marked Royal Albert Dock Extension (South). The book and map were issued in advance of the formal opening by King George V, so I assume it was the wrong thing to do with royal protocol to give the new dock’s name before the King had officially opened and named the dock.
Another point with the map, is that the Port of London Authority were considering a fourth dock for the Royals complex. The red lettering above the Royal Albert Dock is marked as a “Site for dock”. This additional dock was never built, and future expansion by the Port of London Authority would be focused on Tilbury.
It is not possible to walk alongside the majority of the King George V dock. London City Airport occupies the northern side of the dock, whilst other parts of the airport (car parks, offices etc.) occupy much of the southern side, and the one road that ran alongside the dock is fenced off.
So to look at the dock, I am taking a walk along Woolwich Manor Way and the Sir Steve Redgrave Bridge, which provide a good view along the length of the King George V Dock, as well as the lock entrances and the Royal Albert Dock.
Detail from the map at the top of the post shows the Royal Albert Dock Extension, or the King George V Dock as it would be officially known following the opening ceremony:
The road I am following in today’s post is shown in the above map, running over the lower of the three locks to the right, before bending to avoid the Basin, although today the road is straight and a bridge runs over the Basin.
There is no access to the south of the King George V Dock, the road that runs along the south side is fenced off from the east. The blue sign is offering a welcome to London City Airport, although there is no public access from this direction:
A look through the gates, and the road disappears off to where the car parks for the airport are located, with access being from the terminal building at the far west of the dock:
So I am continuing along the Woolwich Manor Way, up to the bridge that runs over the lock between the dock and the river:
Looking along the lifting bridge over the lock:
And from the middle of the bridge, we can look to the west, along the full length of the King George V Dock:
The new dock was needed because the size of ships continued to grow, and there were now ships that were larger than could be accommodated by the Royal Victoria or Royal Albert Docks.
The book published for the opening of the dock provides some insight:
“The largest work yet undertaken by the Port Authority has been the construction of the great dock which his Majesty King George V, has graciously consented to open, and which, in point of importance, is surpassed by no other undertaking of a similar nature carried out during recent years. The improvement in Port facilities by its completion may be illustrated by the fact that, whereas the largest vessel which hitherto could be accommodated in the docks was limited to about 19,000 gross register tons and that only at Tilbury, a distance of 26 miles below London bridge, the new dock will permit of vessels up to 30,000 tons being berthed within six and a half miles of the heart of the City.”
The above text shows that in the early 1920s, the proximity of the docks to the heart of the City of London was still an important factor. There were still many warehouses and trading establishments in the City which received and traded goods coming into the docks.
The text also illustrates why, despite the opening of the new dock, their long term demise could have been foreseen. The story of all the London docks is one of expansion and movement east along the Thames. This was to move to locations where there was sufficient space for very large docks, and where the River Thames was deep enough for large ships to sail.
Ship sizes would continue to grow, and the eventual lack of available space, and the limited depth of the river, would seal the fate of the docks from the Royals, west towards central London. A fate that was confirmed with the arrival of containerisation.
The book published for the opening of the dock starts with a wonderful artwork showing the ship carrying the King, entering the King George V dock, under the lifting bridge, with probably PLA staff and other dignitaries standing on the side of the lock:
The coat of arms are those of the Port of London Authority, with individual components from the arms on the flag. The motto of the PLA “May the Port of the Empire Flourish” is below the arms.
Again, as mentioned earlier, the book does not mention the name King George V Dock. The new dock on the title page is simply the “Southern Extension of the Royal Victoria and Albert System”.
The King George V Dock was of a considerable size. Last week’s post on the locks connecting the Royal Docks to Gallions Reach described the entrance lock, and the following is again taken from the same book, and describes the scale of the dock, as well as the infrastructure that enabled flexible loading and unloading between ship and multiple land-side methods for storage or onward transport:
“The wet dock has a water area of 64 acres and a depth of 38 feet, and is surrounded by quay walls of an aggregate length of approximately 10,000 feet, providing fourteen berths for steamers of the largest size. The length of the dock is 4,578 feet and the width varies from 710 feet at the eastern end to 500 feet at the western end.
A swing bridge, weighing about 1,800 tons, carries the dock road and the rail traffic across the passage which communicates with the Royal Albert Dock.
On the north side of the dock, three double storey sheds, each about 1,100 feet long, are being erected with a width on the ground floor of 110 feet. Reinforced concrete has been adopted for the framework and floors of the sheds, with brick panels, and the roofs have been constructed on the ‘North Light’ principle with steel trusses. Two lines of railway are laid along the quay, 50 feet wide, and a loading platform and three lines of railway have been provided at the rear of the sheds.
Twenty-four 3-ton electric level-huffing cranes constitute the cargo handling appliances on the North Quay itself, but each shed is further equipped with eight 1-ton electric underhung revolving jib cranes travelling transversely through the shed, which are capable of dealing with goods from the quayside or from the railway trucks or carts on the land side and depositing them on any portion of the upper floor or through hatchways on to the lower floor. The quay cranes are capable of lifting three tons at a radius of 60 feet, or a slightly reduced load at a maximum radius of 65 feet.”
The book for the opening of the King George V Dock included some wonderful paintings showing the appearance of the dock after completion, and in operation:
The painting shows the lock to the Thames at lower right, and the passage to the Royal Albert Dock at upper right, with the swing bridge for road and rail traffic. Also shown is the lifting bridge over the end of the entrance lock, where it meets the dock – the point where I was standing to take the photo of the whole of the dock earlier in the post.
The painting also shows the sheds and cranes lining both side of the dock, as described in the book, which also includes an aerial photo of the Royal Docks, with the King George V Dock labelled as “The New Dock” on the left (the photo shows the new dock as being far wider than the Royal Victoria or Albert docks)
Another painting from the book shows the dock as it would be when full of ships up against the quays, along with barges being pulled by tugs:
And another painting showing some detail of the southern quayside, with the Thames in the background:
in the above painting we can see how the south side of the dock differed from the north. Along the northern side of the dock, ships moored directly alongside the quay, however on the southern side:
“Here are seven reinforced concrete jetties, each 520 feet long and 22 feet wide, have been constructed at a distance of 32 feet from the face of the wall, the only shore connection being by means of a timber footbridge.
Ships will berth on the outside of the jetties, and the electric cranes, six to each jetty, will discharge goods direct from the ship’s side either on to the quay for delivery to carts or railway trucks, or for sorting and temporary storage in the sheds behind, or direct into barges lying in the space reserved for them between the jetties and the wall. this arrangement has been specially designed to facilitate the discharge of the large proportion of goods arriving for delivery direct into barges.”
Again, flexibility was key, and as well as the ability to take much larger ships, the king George V Dock also offered multiple methods of transferring cargo.
Photo of the sheds along the north the of the dock, before the cranes were installed:
When we look at the dock today, we see a large expanse of water, with just a few feet of concrete above the water along the quayside. What we cannot see is the significant amount of construction below the ground / water level, and the book to mark the opening of the dock includes some illustrations where we can see the depth and width of the concrete quayside, and the depth of piling needed to support the warehouses:
The drawing also shows how flat bottomed ships of the day were, which enabled the ship to carry large amounts of cargo. I mentioned this in the previous post where the lock into the Royal Victoria Dock was originally a slight V shape, which matched the shape of the hulls of Victorian shipping, but had to be flattened to accommodate ships in later decades.
The following photo shows the north quay in use, with a floating crane moored alongside a ship to assist with unloading into barges:
View along the south side of the dock, showing the cranes installed on their jetties:
And this is the drawing showing the construction of the southern side of the dock, with the crane on a jetty and space for barges between the quayside and the jetty. Unlike the northern side of the dock, the southern side had a sloping base from the jetty up to the dock, as there was no intention for ships to be moored directly alongside the quay.
Detail of the southern side of the dock in use can be seen in the following photo:
Even with a photo of the King George V Dock without water, it is still hard to appreciate the full scale of the dock. The following photo shows the dock, which appears to be fully excavated. The view is from the east, looking west, and the southern edge of the dock is on the left, where we can see the wooden construction of the jetties which have yet to have their cranes installed:
Work on the dock started in August 1912, however work came to a standstill during much of the First World War due to shortages of men and material. Work recommenced in the Autumn of 1918.
The following describes how the docks were equipped and the enormous volumes of materials that were involved:
“The general equipment of the dock includes floating cranes, tugs, locomotives, rolling stock, electric trucks, conveyors, piling machines, and other labour-aiding appliances of the most modern type for the efficient and rapid handling of cargo.
Altogether about 5,000,000 cubic yards of material have been excavated for the works, of which 2,000,000 cubic yards have been deposited at sea. The whole of the ballast required, over 500,000 cubic yards, was obtained from the excavations on the site and use in admixture with about 100,000 tons of Portland Cement for the concrete.”
One of the more unusual features of the King George V Dock was that it had a dry dock at the western end of the dock.
A dry dock is a dock where a ship can be floated into the dock. Gates are then closed across the access to the dry dock and the water is pumped out. The hull of the ship is then in the dry, and maintenance or repairs can then be performed on the hull.
The following photo shows the dry dock just before the opening of the King George V Dock:
The location of the dock is within the red oval in the following extract from an early 1950s edition of the OS map. Whilst the docks are not named, the King George V is the lower dock with the Royal Albert above (Map ‘Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland“):
From the bridge, we can look across to the passage between the King George V and Royal Albert Docks. There was originally a swing bridge over this passage which carried a road and rail tracks:
Although today we cannot find any cargo vessels in the King George V Dock, there is an old light vessel. This is Light Vessel 93:
The following history of the light vessel is from the vessel’s entry in the register of National Historic Ships UK, and the entry and source of the following text can be found by clicking on the text:
The light vessel was moored in the Royal Victoria Dock, close to the mill buildings, but was moved earlier this year in preparation for the foot bridge that is planned to be built across the Royal Victoria Dock, as part of the redevelopment of the land around the Millennium Mill.
When London City Airport was built, it was over the land between the King George V and Royal Albert Docks, with part of the airport, and a later extension of the aircraft stand area, and equipment and vehicle holding area. The extensions over the dock were built on piles, and the following photo is looking across to the airport, with the runway on the right, and we can just see part of the piles between the surface area of the airport and the water of the dock:
The bridge carrying the Woolwich Manor Way over the entrance lock is still a lifting bridge, although the current bridge is not the original. Standing in the middle of the bridge we can see where the two sides of the bridge meet, with the water of the lock visible below:
The presence of London City Airport can be felt when walking around the Royal Docks, and parts of North Woolwich and Silvertown. The bridge is also at the end of the runway, and adjacent to the approach lights, and we can look straight down to the runway and the planes taking off:
Or landing:
The above photo shows just how much this whole area has changed. Part of the dock water can be seen on the right of the photo and the grey blocks of the Millennium Mills are in the centre. These are from the time when the Royal Docks were the largest of London’s docks, with enormous volumes of cargo passing through.
In the foreground we see a plane coming into land at London City Airport – in some ways continuing the use of the area for transporting things internationally. Whilst the docks served passengers and cargo via ships, the airport now moves passengers via planes.
In the background are the towers around Canary Wharf on the Isle of Dogs, built on another London dock complex. On the left is the O2 / Millennium Dome, built on what was a highly industrial area of the Greenwich Peninsula.
Continuing along the bridge, and we pass over the Royal Albert Dock. the passage between the King George V and Royal Albert can be seen on the left:
At the end of the bridge, we arrive at the road network north of the docks, along with the DLR. Just below the road direction sign is a reminder of when the Excel Exhibition Centre was a Nightingale Hospital:
This section of the bridge is named “The Steve Redgrave Bridge” (possibly because of the Royal Docks rowing centre nearby):
I am now walking back along the eastern side of the bridge, the side that faces towards the Thames, and therefore the locks from the Royal Docks to the river, and here we get another view of the impounding station that pumps water from the river into the docks to maintain water levels. From this perspective we can also see the new development at this end of the Royal Albert, surrounding the impounding station:
We then come to the first of the locks from the docks to the river. This is the lock from last week’s post where the width of the lock has been considerably reduced so a much smaller (and cheaper) set of lock gates could be installed. just how much the width of the lock has been reduced can be seen when looking through the lock:
And then the second lock. This is the one that has mainly been filled in, with only a small part remaining at the dock, and into the river:
And we then come to the derelict area between the Royal Albert Basin and the lock into the King George V dock:
View over this area:
In the following photo is where Gallions Road joins Woolwich Manor Way. Gallions Road is the road where I found the other end closed in last week’s post, requiring an alternative route along the bush and butterfly alley that ran next to the Thames, which was in fact, a far better route:
There is a blue sign just visible to the left of the above photo. The sign is for Gallions Point Marina which was once reached down this closed road.
Gallions Point Marina was in the Basin between the eastern end of the Royal Albert Dock and the lock into the Thames.
In my walk around the Royal Docks I could find no evidence of a marina, and the space once occupied by Gallions Point Marina is empty. Strangely, their website is still online.
The marina was a casualty of plans to redevelop Albert Island, the derelict area between the locks for the Royal Albert and King George V.
The Greater London Authority (GLA) had been trying to take possession of the land used by the marina, and despite attempts of mediation between the company and the GLA, there was no agreement.
The GLA then took legal action and evicted the staff of the Marina on the 9th of October 2018, and took possession of the land.
In 2017, the GLA had selected London and Regional Properties as the developers of the site, and in 2021 outline planning approval was granted for the redevelopment scheme, which does include a boat yard, storage buildings and warehouse, and according to the original requirements of the GLA, facilities for repair and maintenance work on ships that use the Thames.
If the area is developed as the GLA originally intended, it will be a suitable development for the site, maintaining the relationship with the river and shipping that has been the whole history of the Royal Docks.
The rather good alley along the Thames with the hundreds of butterflies will be lost though, but there is planned to be public access – hopefully still along the river and across the locks, and hopefully the redevelopment will include many references to the heritage of the site.
Continuing along Woolwich Manor Way, and I have now reached the point where the bridge crosses the lock into the King George V dock, this is the lifting bridge shown earlier in the post, and I can look along the lock out to the Thames:
The area to the right of the lock in the above photo has already been redeveloped. Albert Island is the area to the left, and in this website (click here), there is an image of the proposed new development, showing buildings up to the lock.
As mentioned earlier in the post, when you look at the docks, it is hard to appreciate their size. Water up to a few feet below the sides of the dock does not give an appreciation of the depth, however the following photo is of the lock into the King George V dock under construction, the same lock as shown in my photo above, and illustrates the size, and the complexity of the lock’s build:
The bridge I was standing on to take a photo of the lock is the latest version of the bridge carrying Woolwich Manor Way across the lock, and dates from 1990.
The original version of the bridge, completed at the same time as the King George V dock is shown in the following photo, looking from the lock into the dock:
I have repeated below the painting from the front of the book issued to commemorate the opening of the King George V Dock, as the painting is of the same view as in the above photo:
The dock was opened on the 8th of July, 1921 by King George V, who, during the ceremony to open the dock said that “I have much pleasure in acceding to your request that the dock shall be known as the King George V Dock.” I assume that this is why all documentation and references to the dock prior to the opening used terms such as “new dock”, of as the “Southern Extension of the Royal Victoria & Albert Dock”, as in the front page shown above.
It was probably not royal protocol to assume the name before the King had publically granted his approval.
The opening ceremony started with a “river pageant”, with the King boarding a boat at Westminster Pier and changing to a larger boat after passing under London Bridge. There was a Royal salute fired by the gun battery at the Tower of London, shipping, warehouses, wharves and buildings along the river displayed flags and bunting, and the sides of the river were lined with people cheering as the King and Queen passed.
After two hours, they reached the entrance to the King George V Dock, and entered the lock, with children singing “patriotic airs” along the lock edge, which was also lined by seamen from H.M.S. Pembroke and boys from the Royal Hospital School at Greenwich, as well as a number of naval ships.
The King’s ship (the Rover) entered the dock through the lock, and moored alongside a transit shed at the north side of the dock, where there was a large assembly of Government and Port of London Authority officials, as well as members of the Royal Household, Ambassadors, Royal Watermen, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishops of Southwark and Barking.
In reply to an address by the chairman of the Port of London Authority, the King’s speech at the quayside included references to the history of the London docks:
“Your address reminds us of the great antiquity of London as a port. Even in the far-off days of the Romans it was frequented by foreign merchants and trading ships, and the history of its development into the largest port in the world must appeal to every sailor and every merchant who has any feeling for the romance of his calling. The port in which Chaucer worked as a Custom House official, in which Drake, the founder of our sea power, entertained his Sovereign on board the Golden Hind is deeply interwoven with the fabric of English history. From those times onward the traffic and discoveries of our ancestors have brought an increasing commerce to the shores of the Thames until it is not to much to say that here the highways of the oceans meet.
You have referred to the natural advantages of the Thames estuary and to the enterprise of the trading community as the two great factors in the advancement of the Port of London. For many centuries seamen and merchants were content to rely on the first of these, but during the last hundred years improvements in ship building and the growth of the trade of London have rendered it necessary in an increasing degree to call in commercial effort and engineering skill to supplement natural advantages.”
The King continued in the same vein and also remarking on the increasing size of ships that the new dock would be able to support, and finally the King declared the new dock open as the King George V Dock, and unlike the two hour pageant down the river, the royal party took cars back from the docks to Buckingham Palace.
The north side of the dock, and from the images of the redevelopment of Albert Island, the PLA building on the side of the dock will disappear:
The lock, as well as the dock, is used as a temporary holding place for the equipment that performs much of the infrastructure work along the river, and this leads to some very strange vessels to be seen – I have no idea what the following vessel does:
The south side of the lock into the King George V dock:
A final look as I continue south along Woolwich Manor Way. In years to come, this view will be very different:
And the above view concludes my exploration of the Royal Docks, an absolutely fascinating area that demonstrates the sheer size and ambition of the London Docks, the civil engineering, the enormous volumes of trade that passed through these docks, and the passengers who departed and arrived on ships from across the world – a history that I hope will be told in future development.
As mentioned earlier in the post, the need for the King George V Dock to support ever increasing ship size should have hinted at the future closure of the London dock system, when there was not enough land for docks, and the Thames was not deep enough to bring any larger ships up to the Royals. Dredging the Thames to provide a channel was already an ongoing problem.
The docks at Tilbury continue in operation, and the really large container ships do still use the Thames, arriving at the London Gateway port, just to the west of Canvey Island. The London Gateway continues to expand, and a couple of days ago, the shipping company Maersk announced that in 2025 it is moving from the Port of Felixstowe in Suffolk, to the London Gateway in the Thames.
I have not really covered the working history of the docks – something hopefully for a future post, There are a couple of places in Silvertown I still need to cover, probably the subject for an extra post, but for now, that is the Royal Docks – well worth a visit and long walk.
I have used many excellent books, LDDC publications, newspapers etc. to research the Royal Docks. The following are a sample of some of the books, which are often available online:
Dockland – An illustrated historical survey of life and work in east London, published by the North East London Polytechnic (1986)
A London Docklands Guide by Tony Phillips (1986)
History of the Port of London by Sir Joseph Broodbank, Chairman of the Dock & Warehouse Committee of the PLA (1921)
London Docklands. Past, present and future by Professor S.K. Al Naib (1994)
Liquid History by Arthur Bryant (1960)
The Port of London Yesterday and Today by D.J. Owen, General Manager of the Port of London Authority (1927)
The Said Noble River by Alan Bell (1937)
London Docks 1800 – 1980. A civil engineering history by Ivan S. Greeves (1980)
Discover London Docklands. An A to Z Illustrated Guide by Professor S.K. Al Naib (1992)
The Port of London – A brief survey of its History with outline of its present facilities and Trade. Published by the Port of London Authority (1931)
The Royal Docks are a fascinating area to walk (if there is interest, I may do a walk around the Royals next year), but until the weather improves, and if you read this on the day of publication, as Storm Bert sweeps the country, you may be interested in the following films on life on the river and the Royal Docks.
The first, from the British Film Institute does not feature the Royal Docks, but it is from the 1930s and shows much of the working river in colour:
There were once tours via boat into the Royal Docks, and the following colour film from 1966 shows a cruise along the river, before entering the Royal Docks, at the King George V lock, the bridge carrying Woolwich Manor Way opening, and then a tour through the Royal Docks:
In this week’s post I am continuing my walk around the Royal Docks, starting from where I ended last week’s post, at the eastern end of the Royal Albert Docks, and where the entrance locks to the Royal Albert and King George V docks from the Thames at Gallions Reach can be found. In North Woolwich I also find a sad example of how a pub’s façade has been included in a new development.
The above map shows just two entrances, one to the basin which connects to the Royal Albert Dock, and a longer entrance that connects to the King George V Dock, however there were originally three entrance locks, as shown in the following map from when the docks were operational:
The lower entrance to the Basin has been filled in, although there is a short stretch remaining of the old lock where it meets the Basin, and where it originally entered the Thames.
The upper entrance, the locked stretch of water between the Thames and the Basin remains, however today has a much smaller lock gate, as the point in the lock where the gate is located has been narrowed by a rectangular block of land built over the channel where the lock gate is located.
In the following photo, the impounding station that was at the end of last week’s post is just behind the new block of apartments on the right, and you can see how the lock has been narrowed, as I am standing on the infill, and the original width of the lock can be seen after the last lamp post:
The red rectabgle on the right is the infill over part of the lock, with the new lock gate being the red line. The infill enabled a much smaller lock gate to be fitted (and presumably at much lower cost), than the original lock gates.
The yellow rectangle over the middle lock is the area that has been filled in, and the red dashed line is the walking route I took to bypass a closed road, and get from the old position of the central lock to the large lock that connected the Thames with the King George V Dock, on the left of the photo.
The three locks in the above photo became the only route into the Royal Docks complex after 1928. By that time, the lock gates at the western entrance to the Royal Victoria Dock had reached the end of their useful life, and the roller paths at the bottom of the gates were causing problems.
There was also very little left of the original concrete base to the lock. It appears that dredging had gradually removed the concrete base over the 70 years that the lock had been in use.
The lock was repaired and strengthened, although a decision was made to restrict the western entrance to the Royal Victoria Dock to barge traffic only, with the three entrances at Gallions Reach then becoming the only entrances for shipping.
Standing in the lock and looking towards the Basin shows the much smaller width of the lock gate:
On the left of the above photo is a small building which I think houses the switch gear to control the lock gates. A sign on this building shows one of the rules to prevent rabies infection:
Although the original lock gates have been removed, some of the machinery that was used to control them can still be seen, embedded in the side walls, and below this (although difficult to see) are numbers indicating the depth of water, carved in the stone of the side wall:
Looking out to the Thames from the lock – just imagine how many ships have arrived to, and departed from the Royal Albert Dock through this entrance:
Buildings, and bollards for ship’s ropes still line the side of the lock:
On both sides:
View across the lock showing the proximity of the new housing developments:
At the end of that part of the lock where the width has been narrowed, looking up towards the Basin, along the original width of the lock:
The Gallions entrance lock to the Albert Dock was upgraded in the early 1950s.
The floor of the lock was found to be curved, and whilst this was acceptable for Victorian shipping with curved hulls, shipping by the 1950s had almost flat bottoms to maximise cargo space.
The lock was also chain operated, and the system was 70 years old, and reaching the end of its useable life.
The problem with upgrading the lock was that it needed to be empty of water, and a wall of some type was needed towards the Thames and towards the Royal Albert Dock, as if water flooded in from the dock it could cause an incredible amount of expensive damage to the ships in the dock, if the water level suddenly reduced.
The first method used was by building a dam of granite blocks across the end of the lock. When the dam was tested, there was horizontal movement within the layers of blocks, and a scour hole of some 20 feet deep had formed in the chalk below the lock.
The dam of granite blocks was replaced by a dam of a double layer of sheet piling with 70 foot long piles driven 15 feet into the chalk below the lock.
The area around the lock also had to be de-watered to reduce the pressure pushing on the lock walls from the land surrounding the lock. This was done by installing 34 deep wells around the lock of 24 inches diameter, with a 12 horse power submersible pump in each that worked to reduce the level of ground water around the lock, and hence the pressure on the lock walls.
The work to reshape the bottom of the lock, and to make repairs were completed by 1956 when the lock reopened.
Standing by the side of the lock it looks like a stable volume of water within concrete walls, however the details in the paragraphs above show the complexity of the structure, the huge forces that water at either ends of the lock, and within the surrounding ground, exerted on the lock.
They are remarkable examples of complex civil engineering.
Nine years ago, I took the following photo of the entrance to the lock from the river, when the new apartment buildings next to the lock were being built:
If you have walked the Capital Ring, then the route I am taking across the lock entrances to the Royal Docks is probably familiar:
Once across the lock, and I enter a very different landscape. Where all of my walk around the Royal Albert Dock so far, has been through developed land, or open space waiting to be developed, the space between the old dock entrances is an area devoid of people, a number of apparently derelict buildings, and empty space:
They really do not want you to stray off the road, probably sensible as the docks are of deep water:
The road has a name – Gallions Road, and it runs from the first lock that I crossed, up to Woolwich Manor Way, although do not expect to see any people, cars or lorries on this road:
The road is called Gallions Road and the title of the blog post is “The Gallions Reach Entrances to the Royal Docks”, so where does Gallions come from?
If you want to locate a place, then it needs a name, and this is no different with the River Thames. So much once went on along the river, that names were useful to refer to each stretch, and Gallions Reach was the name given to the part of the Thames roughly from Woolwich to Barking Creek.
The Gallions name comes from the Galyons family, who owned land along this part of the river in the 14th century.
With the way we use the river today, names such as Gallions Reach are not often heard, although the original Galyons is in use for the hotel in the previous post and the Gallions Reach Shopping Park is in nearby Beckton.
The name was used very many times to describe events on the river in previous centuries, and I have seen both Gallions, Gallion’s and Galleons used as spellings. Many of the uses describe some very dramatic events, such as in May 1816 when there was a armed fight on the Thames.
A boat carrying dollars to India was moored on the river at Greenwich. Due to the value of the cargo, armed guards were on board. A boat appears with two men onboard and comes up against the boat carrying the dollars. As there are only two people on board there is not much concern.
As the boat comes alongside, 20 armed “pirates” emerge from under a tarpaulin and swarm onto the cargo boat, threatening to kill the crew. A shooting fight breaks out as the crew fight back with blunderbusses.
The pirates manages to grab boxes of dollars (to the value of £7,000 in 1816), and they then flee on their boat. The report continues:
“It would seem from the speedy approach of day-light and the slackness of the tide immediately after the robbery was committed, the villains were afraid to venture on shore with their stolen property, and had therefore deemed it expedient to sink the whole, or part of the chests, as they supposed within the low water mark, in Gallions Reach; for about seven o-clock, at low water, three of the chests were observed uncovered on the shore, where they had been just left by the tide.”
In some respects, in past centuries, the Thames was a city in its own right, there were so many people working and travelling on the river and there were newsworthy events on the river almost every day.
The report on the theft of the dollars (they were in chests, so I am assuming some form of silver dollar) concludes by saying that of the £7,000 stolen, only £3,000 had been recovered, so perhaps there are some early 19th century dollars still to be found in the muds of the Thames at Gallions Reach.
Back to the 21st century, and I am continuing along Gallions Road, with the approach lights to London City Airport to my right. The proximity of the land between the dock entrances and the runway probably limits what can be built here as any high rise buildings would extend too far into the approach path:
And here the road is closed. No mention of why, but I cannot get any further:
However there is another route, and just to the left of the above photo is this footpath which heads up towards the river (the footpath is marked by the red dashed line in the Britain from Above photo earlier in the post):
In the above photo there is a car on the left. There was a large dog in the rear barking at me as I walked past, with a security man sitting in the front seat.
What they were guarding is shown in the following photo – some derelict land and a large shed. The lower lock into the Basin at the end of the Royal Albert Dock once ran across the land in the foreground of the photo below (the orange rectangle in the Britain from Above photo earlier in the post):
Nine years ago, I took the following photo of the block up entrance to the lower lock from the river:
At the end of the first stretch of footpath, it does a ninety degree bend and ruins alongside the Thames on the left, with thick bushes on the right hand side. It was a sunny, warm day, and what was remarkable about this footpath were the huge number of butterflies in the bushes, and as I walked along the footpath, they would rise from the bushes then fly back in. I have never seen so very many in one place.
Looking back along the footpath, with the Thames just visible on the right:
And at the end of the stretch that runs parallel with the Thames, there is another ninety degree bend, again with thick bushes and butterflies on the right, and some derelict land on the left:
At the end of which, there are steps:
And over the steps, a footpath which leads down to the lock that connects the King George V Dock to the River Thames:
At the end of the footpath, I reach the walkway over one of the lock gates:
This lock is massive, and I believe is still of the same dimensions as when the King George V Dock was built, and opened in 1921.
The following photo is looking towards the King George V Dock from the middle of the lock gates closest to the Thames. There are two other sets of lock gates, and the bridge in the distance carries the Woolwich Manor Way over the lock, where it joins the main dock:
The lock is still in use, providing access for ships to and from the Royal Dock complex, and the bridge in the distance, carrying Woolwich Manor Way over the lock is a Bascule Bridge and consists of two cantilevered steel box girder leaves which taper towards and meet at the middle. The bridge opens much as Tower Bridge does, with the two sections rising from the middle, and can swing by roughly 90 degrees, therefore opening up almost vertically.
The current bridge dates from 1990, replacing an earlier bridge, which also opened to allow ships to move between dock and lock.
Looking out to the Thames from the middle of the lock gate (standing in the middle of the relatively narrow lock gate, you get the feeling that you are suspended above two huge, dynamic stretches of water):
The King George V Dock was the last major dock to be built in London, and, as with the other two docks that make up the Royal Docks was on a massive scale. The lock entrance between the dock and the Thames was the largest entrance on any London Dock.
I have a one of the book’s issued to mark the opening of the dock on the 8th of July 1921, and the book describes the lock as follows:
“Ships will enter from the river through an entrance lock 800 feet long by 100 feet wide with a depth of water on the sill of 45 feet below Trinity high water, equivalent to 41 feet 8 inches at high water of ordinary neap tides. Its length is divided into two compartments of 550 feet and 250 feet by three pairs of steel lock gates, each leaf of which weighs 309 tons, operated by direct acting hydraulic rams. By the use of a floating caisson, for which provision has been made at the inner end, the effective length of the lock can be increased to 910 feet.
The lock walls have been constructed of eight to one mass concrete with a four to one face, and are founded in chalk, 65 feet below coping level, the thickness of the wall at the bottom being 21 feet. The floor, also of concrete, is 11 feet 9 inches thick in the middle.
Two entrance jetties project a distance of 480 feet into the river, and form a bellmouth 675 feet wide across the outer extremity.”
The details of the thickness of the lock walls and base give some idea of some of the pressures that the lock had to withstand – water pressure, added to when large ships passed through the lock, and pressure from within the land surrounding the dock, acting on the inside of the lock walls.
The lock seems to be in the same configuration today, with three pairs of lock gates, with a shorter section between the two gates nearest the river, and a longer section between the two gates nearest to the dock.
With the lock being full of water, it is difficult to see the massive scale of the structure. The book issued at the opening of the dock includes a number of photos which show the lock under construction, the first shows the lock being built, empty of water:
The second photo shows “one of the three pairs of lock gates”, and as described in the text, each side of the lock gates weighs 309 tons:
To put the scale of the above photo of the lock gates into context, look at the very bottom centre of the photo, and you can just see two figures, I have enlarged just this small section in the photo below:
In the above photo you can also see the roller and the roller path at the outer edge of one of the lock gates. This roller supported the gate as it was opened or closed.
Looking back over the walkway over the outer lock gate:
The three lock gates in the lock to the King George V Dock are still fully operational, and part of the opening and closing mechanism can be seen coming from the side of the quay, where the rest of the mechanism is located:
A final look out to Gallions Reach, the part of the Thames where the three locks at the eastern end of the Royal Albert and King George V provided access to and from the Royal Docks:
Again, imagine all the ships, cargo and people who have passed through this lock. One example is the Blue Star Line “Almeda” shown in the following photo in the entrance lock to the King George V Dock on the completion of her maiden voyage with passengers from Argentina on the 6th of April, 1927:
The area between the upper lock to the Royal Albert Basin and the lower lock to the King George V is a really interesting area. Empty and derelict, the only person I saw was the security man with his dog sitting in the car.
On leaving the lock into the King George V dock, the area changes dramatically, and we enter streets lined by housing that has been built over the last couple of decades:
I walked through this new estate, and onto Woolwich Manor Way, and where the name changes to Albert Road at the junction with Woodman Street, on the corner was a large, closed pub, now converted into residential:
This was the Roundhouse. The pub does not appear in the 1895 OS map, but there was a large corner pub on a street corner just to the north.
This pub was demolished when the King George V dock was built, and I wonder if the Roundhouse was built after this nearby pub was demolished.
The Roundhouse closed in 2003, and then converted to residential.
Directly opposite the pub is Barge House Road:
Barge House Road has pre-war housing on the western side of the street. There is a plaque up on the wall of the house facing onto Albert Road, but the date on the plaque has been worn a bit too much to be read.
In the 1895 OS map, the street is shown (but without a name), and there is no housing on either side of the street, so I suspect it was built as part of the development of the area when the King George V dock was built.
There was though a pub (called the Barge House) at the southern end of the street, and a small dock into the river.
The dock is listed in the PLA 1980s listing of “Steps, Stairs and Landing Places on the Tidal Thames”, as the “Old Barge House Drawdock”. A drawdock was a place where boats could be drawn out of the river for loading / unloading, for maintenance etc.
The dock is still partly there, and I will visit in a future post.
The next street along is Woolwich Manor Way, a continuation of the street that runs over the lifting bridge over the lock into King George V Dock, with houses on the eastern side of the street and the Royal Victoria Gardens opposite (again, the date on the plaque on the end house is too worn to see the date of construction):
I walked from Albert Road up to Woodman Street as there was a pub I wanted to see, all that is left of the Royal Oak in a remarkable example of where the façade of the pub has been retained, and a very different building completed around and above:
Close up showing the lovely green tiling of the old Royal Oak and a “Truman’s Beers, Eagle Brand” tiled sign:
The Royal Oak was in business by the early 1870s, and was a typical east London pub, however bombing during the Second World War resulted in the loss of the upper floors.
Remarkably, the Royal Oak continued to trade using just the remaining ground floor.
The pub finally closed around 2010 / 2011, was purchased for redevelopment as apartments, with planning permission that new apartments could be built, but the lower floor had to be retained, and possibly reopen as a pub.
Whilst the new apartments have been completed and appear occupied, what remains of the Royal Oak looks to be gradually deteriorating. I have no idea if anything remains of the interior of the orginal pub, or whether it is just the outer facade that has been retained.
There appears to be no progress in converting / restoring or reopening the ground floor as a pub, or as any other business.
A real shame:
When writing the blog, I really do try and get all my facts right, and I am very grateful to readers who point out any errors (thankfully very few).
The Internet can be an excellent source of factual information, and it can also propagate errors, and I am very conscious of this when writing a post, as I do not want to include errors that others may therefore take as fact.
When researching the Royal Oak, I found a number of websites that associate the Royal Oak in Woodman Street, North Woolwich with the naming of Arsenal Football Club.
Arsenal was originally named Dial Square, after one of the workshops at the Woolwich factory.
After a win in December 1886, the club met in the Royal Oak, and decided to change name to Royal Arsenal, a name which lasted until 1893 when the name changed to Woolwich Arsenal.
A number of websites claim the Royal Oak was the one I have photographed, for example one site stating the Royal Oak in north Woolwich, and another the Royal Oak at 83 Woodman St, London, E16 2LN, but also mentioning the Woolwich Arsenal Station which is south of the river.
The official history of Arsenal, on the club’s website also refers to the Royal Oak, but next to Woolwich Arsenal Station, which is the correct location of the Royal Oak in question.
Probably an issue with two pubs called the Royal Oak, but one south of the river next to Woolwich Arsenal, and the other north of the river in North Woolwich.
The King George V dock is very close, but nothing can be seen of the dock due to buildings and high walls, however there is an occasional a glimpse that the dock is there down some of the side street off Woodman Street, where, for example, the top of Light Vessel 93, moored in the King George V dock can be seen:
I will cover the light vessel in a future post.
At the end of Woodman Street is Pier Parade, where North Woolwich library can be found:
North Woolwich Police Station, which opened in 1904 on the corner of Albert Road and Pier Road:
The building still appears to be in use as a Police Station, but the “front counter” was closed in 2013.
There is a very detailed spreadsheet available on the Metropolitan Police website that details all the station closures between 2010 and 2023, listing the 126 closures during this period, and whether it was the just the front counter, or the whole police station.
Opposite the police station is the Royal Standard, seems to be open as a pub, but also as a resturant:
Diagonally opposite to the pub is the following terrace of buildings of mixed age and style, but mainly pre-war, on Pier Road, the street that leads to the Woolwich ferry:
A bit further along Albert Road, on the corner with Fernhill Street is a rare sight in east London, a relatively modern pub, the Henley Arms:
The current Henley Arms was opened in 1966, replacing an 1860s pub with the same name that stood closer to the corner of Albert Road than the current pub.
The Henley Arms is a survivor from a time when there were so many pubs in the area. I have walked a relatively short distance along Albert Road. Between the Roundhouse and the Henley Arms is 900 metres, and the 1956 edition of the OS map shows nine pubs, so one every one hundred metres. This does not include pubs such as the Royal Oak or the Barge House which were between Albert Road and the docks, and the river.
The majority were large corner pubs, and all would have been busy.
The closure of the Royal Docks started their decline, and in the following decades there was the typical story of closure and redevelopment as residential.
That is another part of the area around the Royal Docks, North Woolwich and Silvertown explored. The area where the three locks were, between the docks and the Thames at Gallions Reach is a very unique area, and I hope that when it is developed, as it inevitably will, the locks, their scale, construction and history is retained and highlighted, as the place where very many thousands of ships and people, and millions of tons of cargo entered and left London’s largest dock complex.
After last Sunday’s diversion, I am back in the Royal Docks, this time exploring the second of the three individual docks that make up the overall “Royals” dock complex – the Royal Albert Dock.
I also have an error to own up to. In my original post on the history of the Royal docks, I included a number of photos that my father had taken, describing them all as being of the Royal Victoria Dock. From some comments and emails received (thanks for all the comments, they are all read and appreciated), from people who had worked in, and known the area well, the photo showing ships lining the sides of a dock was in fact the Royal Albert Dock:
Whilst all the other photos had identifiable features, and were of the Royal Victoria Dock, my father must have started his walk around the Royal Victoria Dock at the eastern end of the dock, where it joined the Royal Albert, and where there was a good view along the Royal Albert, so the above photo is of the Royal Albert Dock, and is where I am walking in today’s post.
I started the walk at the appropriately named Royal Albert Station on the Docklands Light Railway:
One of the few surviving buildings from when the docks were operational is located right next to the DLR station, this is the Compressor House (light blue oval in the map):
The Compressor House dates from 1914 and was originally a warehouse providing cold storage for cargo shipped via the Royal Docks:
The Compressor House featured in a document released by the Mayor of London back in May 2024. The document covers the “leasehold disposal of Compressor House, for 10 years, to Really Local Group to deliver a project that addresses priorities of good growth, levelling up and Royal Docks placemaking; and provides best value for the GLA Land and Property Limited commercial asset.”
Apparently the building retains many original internal features such as hoists, rails and winching machinery. Plans for the building include a café, rooms for hire, including for exhibitions and performances, and a learning / meeting room.
I love the terms used in documents talking about the benefits of a project, as the Mayor of London document talks about linking the surrounding communities with the Royal Docks, through “in this case through the lens of digital inclusion”. I have no idea what this means.
It would be really good to make publicly accessible use of the building – providing the original features are retained, along with the story of how the building was once part of the Royal Docks success.
Arms of the Port of London Authority and the date of 1914 displayed above the door.
From the Royal Albert DLR station, and the Compressor House, it was a very short walk to the side of the Royal Albert Dock:
There is a wide walkway along the northern edge of the dock, with some recent developments along the side, but what impresses is the enormous expanse of water. The above view is looking east, and the view below is looking to the west, where the bridge can be seen that marks the point where the Royal Albert meets the Royal Victoria Dock:
Whilst there has been less development along this side of the Royal Albert Dock, along the south of the dock, where there is a strip of land between the Royal Albert and King George V dock, there is the result of one of the first major infrastructure projects around the Royal Docks, that was, and continues to be an issue for many local residents, and which made the Royal Docks a significant transport hub for London. This is London City Airport, where from the north side of the dock, you can watch planes landing and taking off, where there were once warehouses:
View across to the terminal buildings at London City Airport:
The idea for an airport in the docklands came from the London Docklands Development Corporation in the early 1980s. The concept was for an airport that would service the business centres of the City of London, and the proposed development centered on Canary Wharf in the Isle of Dogs.
The airport would offer swift access from these centres of business, with minimal waiting time at the airport. Almost a “turn up and fly” approach, rather than the longer travel out to airports such as Heathrow and Gatwick, with the lengthier times for check-in, security etc. as well as often delayed take-offs and landings.
The airport was built by the civil engineering and construction company, Mowlem, between 1986 and 1987.
Incidentally, one of the best books I have on the construction and engineering of the London Docks is “London Docks 1800 – 1980 by Ivan Greeves (1980)”. (I will give a long list of the books and sources I have used in the final post on the Royal Docks).
Ivan Greeves was a fellow of the Institution of Civil Engineers and a Director of John Mowlem, and Mowlem had been involved with many of the civil engineering projects around the London Docks. Greeves’ book is a wonderful detailed civil engineering history of the London Docks.
There were many publications by both the LDDC and other publishers, as the development of the docklands got underway. I collected as many as I could, and one was the magazine “Vistas”, published by the London Docklands Publishing Consortium, and in issue 2. Spring 1987, the first two airlines that would use London City Airport, which would open later in the year were featured:
The first two airlines were Brymon Airways and Eurocity Express, and an article in Vistas explains the airlines plans, and the type of service they intended to operate from the new docklands airport.
There is also a photo showing London City Airport under construction, when it occupied just the land between the Royal Albert and George V docks:
The article continues, with both airlines explaining the benefits of flying from London City Airport, with Brymon fully focused on the business traveler, and Eurocity Express also focused on the business traveler, but also expecting a share of leisure travelers:
It was a Brymon flight that had helped prove that planes could take off and land from short landing strips in the docklands, when in 1982 a Brymon Dash 7 aircraft landed at Heron Quays in Canary Wharf.
Eurocity Express changed name to London City Airways in 1988 to more closely align the identity of the airline with London City Airport, but would suffer financial collapse two years later in 1990.
In the late 1980s I worked for a company that was split between London and Amsterdam and did use London City Airport a number of times. It was a really fast airport to get through, whether arriving or departing, and the best bit was always coming into land, with the steep approach, and good views of the surrounding docklands.
I did take my camera a number of times, but cannot find the negatives. Hopefully one day.
Old and new industries / business around the Royal Docks – planes at London City Airport, with the Tate and Lyle factory in the background:
After opening, the airlines operating from London City Airport used propeller driven airplanes such as the Dash 7. These carried relatively few passengers when compared to larger jet aircraft, however they were more than capable of landing and taking of from a short runway.
The airport served business centres close to the UK, such as Amsterdam and Paris, and in the following years the destinations served, as well as the number of passengers grew considerably (including New York for a short time).
An extension to the airport opened in 1992. Access to the airport improved in 2005 when a DLR station was opened at the airport, and in 2008, additional aircraft parking space was opened on an extension to the airport built on piles over part of the King George V dock.
Jet aircraft started to use the airport in the early 1990s, and today jet aircraft run the majority of services, with a small number of propeller driven aircraft still operating.
In the first full year of operation, 133,000 passengers passed through London City Airport. In August of this year, the Government approved the expansion of the airport to increase capacity from 6.5 million to 9 million, with more weekend and early morning flights.
Flight destinations and the target traveler have also moved on from the initial business market, and when I had a look in the terminal building there seemed to be just as many people, if not more, going away for leisure, including families, than business.
I am writing this on a Friday evening, and I had a look at the first flight on Saturday morning which is a British Airways flight to Ibiza – definitely not one of the original target markets.
There is not much going on along the north bank of the Royal Albert Dock, and whilst I was walking, on a summer’s weekday morning, there were very few people around., so in this quiet place, it is strange to hear the sound of a jet aircraft taking off, or the quitter sound of a landing, at regular intervals:
There is a certain symetry between the airport and the old docks. The docks transported cargo all over the world and the airport is now flying people.
The north bank of the dock is really quiet, as this view along the walkway demonstrates:
And with it being such a peaceful environment, it is hard to imagine just how busy the Royal Albert Dock was, and what a sight it must have been, with so many ships coming and going, and vast amounts of cargo being shifted between warehouses, transit sheds, quayside, lighters and ships, as the following photo of the dock demonstrates:
The warehouses that ran alongside the length of the dock were not meant for long term storage, most were transit sheds as this was their main purpose, to temporarily hold cargo as it transited from ship to destination, or from source to ship.
The following photo shows a typical transit shed at the Royal Albert Dock:
And an innovation across the Royal Docks was the use of the railway as a means of transport. The docks were threaded through with rail lines allowing the movement of goods within the docks, and out onto the wider mainline rail networks, as the following photo of a cold store, along with overhead conveyors between buildings, shows:
Continuing the walk along the Royal Albert Dock, and I have reached a series of office blocks:
I have no idea who thinks of the slogans that often try to attract people or companies to new properties, “Regenerative Audacious Disruptive” and “Where Paradigms Shift” – totally meaningless – although I suppose that if a company moved their office to one of these blocks, with so few facilities or other businesses around, it would genuinely be “disruptive”:
Although they do have a good view along the dock, and across to the towers on the Isle of Dogs:
All these office blocks appear to be unoccupied, and they are a testament to an over hyped scheme that was entirely dependent on foreign investment and foreign businesses.
A headline in the Guardian on the 30th of May, 2013 read “Chinese to develop slice of British imperial past: Royal Albert Dock due to be Asian business park by 2023: Transformation of London site could bring 20,000 jobs”.
The article below the above headline reported that the Chinese developer Advanced Business Park had signed a £1 billion agreement with London Mayor Boris Johnson to develop a 35 acre site alongside the Royal Albert Dock with offices and shops, with the aim of attracting Asian businesses to set-up their European head quarters at the site, as well as British companies who do business in Asia.
At the signing of the agreement, Boris Johnson said that it would be “London’s third great business area” and that it “will restore jobs and growth to the Royal Docks, an area . . . that has been in more or less continuous decline for 50 or 60 years”.
The parts of the development that have been completed seem to have been mainly empty since completion, and the 20,000 jobs have not materialized.
In 2022 newspaper headlines reported that the “Royal Albert Dock a ghost town as developer goes bankrupt”. This was ABP Investment Ltd, the Beijing based original property developer.
In May, 2024 the Greater London Authority was looking for a new developer for the land alongside the northern edge of the Royal Albert Dock, as from the original 2013 agreement, only about 10% had been built, and this 10% was mainly empty office blocks.
The central street through the existing office blocks is called Mandarin Street, reflecting the Chinese heritage of the original developer and investment:
Leaving Mandarin Street, and the empty office blocks behind, I continue walking on past the empty land that should by now, based on the 2013 agreement, have seen 20,000 people working here:
Look left from my position when taking the above photo and there are some really good, original buildings from the time of the working docks, and this is the Dock Manager’s Offices (green oval in the map at the top of the post):
Grade II listed and built in 1883 by Vigers and Wagstaffe. The name of the building should explain what went on here – it was from where the Royal Docks were managed, where the dock records were kept and administered.
A second building, alongside the Dock Managers Office is the Central Buffet, also by Vigers and Wagstaffe, dating from 1883, and is also Grade II listed.
The Central Buffest appears to have been a café / restaurant for workers and for passengers traveling via the Royal Docks. It also appears to have been used as a pub, as this report from the 6th of December 1897 explains;
“BETTING AT THE ROYAL ALBERT DOCKS – At Stratford Police court on Saturday, Thomas Clarey, a lighterman, of 49, freemasons-road, Custom-house, was summoned on six information’s for using the Central Buffet, a public-house in the Royal Albert Docks, for the purpose of betting with other persons, and Henry James Morgan, the secretary of the London and India Docks Joint Committee, the holder of the licence of the Central Buffest, was summoned for permitting the place to be used for the purposes of betting.”
A “barmaid” was also called to give evidence, so the Central Buffet was certainly also working as a pub.
The Dock Managers Office and the Central Buffet are remarkable buildings, and from their appearance they would be more expected in the suburbs, or as a country house, rather than in the industrial east London docks.
Winged figure with trumpet on top of the Central Buffet:
A look along the Royal Albert Dock, and there is still much of the dock behind me, and in the distance, out of sight in the photo below, is the Royal Victoria Dock. You really need to walk alongside the Royal Docks to fully appreciate the sheer scale of these manmade temples to London’s trade:
Vessels berthed at the Royal Albert Dock:
More shipping in the Royal Albert Dock:
New Quays added to the Royal Albert Dock in the 1930s:
The following photo shows how cargo could be loaded to and from lighters as well as the quayside. The Royal Albert Dock was known as a dock where goods of all sorts could fine the appropriate facilities for unloading, storage and distribution:
All very different today as I walk along a mainly silent quayside, with just the occasional take off or landing on the other side of the water to disturb the peace.
London City Airport is on the south side of the Royal Albert Dock, however there was a second, short term airstrip on the north side of the dock.
In 2007, the Red Bull air racing event took place in London, and the long open space alongside the north of the dock proved ideal for the pits area and runway for the event.
If I remember correctly, the Red Bull race was also held in docklands in the following year, 2008, and these events had quite an impact on the London City Airport, as flights from the airport had to be suspended whilst Red Bull racing was underway.
Peer over a fence as you walk along the north side of the Royal Albert Dock, and parts of the overgrown runway can still be seen:
Further along the Royal Albert Dock, there are some recent buildings which have brought activity to the area, although as I was there during August, they were again very quiet.
These are educational establishments, and first is the London Design and Engineering UTC (University Technical College):
A UTC is a government funded school that offers 14 to 19 year olds a more focused technical and scientific educational, taught in a different way to a normal school.
The next building is the University of East London:
The area around these buildings should be much busier in school term time, but during August they just added to the sense that the northern section of the Royal Albert Dock needs a considered development plan to bring in more life, and benefits for the local community just outside of the dock, not just yet another area flooded with identikit apartment blocks.
Next to the university buildings there is the student accommodation, which includes several rather different, round blocks:
They are described as “having a nautical theme in homage to the shipping heritage of the area”:
They certainly have a good view, looking out on the dock, and with views of planes arriving and departing at the airport on the opposite side of the dock:
Although built not that long after the Royal Victoria Dock, the Royal Albert was needed to accommodate ships of larger size and deeper draught than the earlier Victoria Dock, as well as providing a significant amount of additional space for ships to dock, and the associated infrastructure for moving and storing cargo.
The Royal Albert Dock was 27 feet in depth (just 1.5 feet deeper than the Royal Victoria, but suffcient for the expected larger ships). The entrance from the Thames to the Royal Albert Dock was 550 feet in length and 80 feet wide.
The water area that the Royal Albert Dock occupied was 73 acres, compared to 66 acres for the Royal Victoria.
The Royal Albert Dock was the first London Dock to be lighted by electricity, and this helped the dock to be in use by both night as well as day.
Between the main dock area of the Royal Albert, and the locked entrance to the Thames was a basin. In the following photo, I am almost at the basin, and looking along the full length of the dock. A little way along the dock edge on the left, you can just see the entrance to the King George V Dock, which is to the south of the Royal Albert
Looking in the other direction at the basin, the area of water between the dock and the Thames:
The following map extract shows the eastern end of the Royal Albert Dock (upper length of water) with the basin connecting the dock to two entrances to the river:
Today, the area to the north of the basin has been redeveloped, and there are blocks of new apartment buildings to be seen. The area from the upper entrance to the river and down to the large entrance to the King George V dock is undeveloped, and is where we can see some of the old dock infrastructure, and get an impression of the size of the dock entrances.
Changes within the basin have added some routes across, including lifting bridges:
From this point, I took a very short detour to find another of the building that remain from when the docks were operational, the Galyons Royal Docks (purple oval in the map at the start of the post):
Originally the Gallions Hotel, it is Grade II* listed, and as with the Dock Managers Office and the Central Buffet, it was by George Vigers and T R Wagstaffe and dates from the same period as it was built between 1881 and 1883:
The Civil & Military Gazette on November the 8th, 1893 carried an account of a visit to the Royal Docks, which included this description of the Gallions Hotel:
“At the Gallions Hotel you meet old salts and ships captains of all types; some, of the old-fashioned style, look as if they have just foregathered with their friends, Cap’en Cuttle and Bunsby, and shake their grizzled heads dolefully (as is the custom of grizzled heads all over the world) over the present degenerate age; they drink rum and hot water, with an enticing piece of lemon floating on the top out of fat glasses with a leg, called very appropriately ‘rummers’ and stir up the seductive beverage thoughtfully with a fat glass spoon.
Of a different stamp, and yet of the true British sailor breed are the smart young captains and mates who are standing each other whiskies and sodas (plenty of whisky and very little soda). The genial landlady knows them all, and has a greeting for each; they come and go at intervals, and in the meantime, have been round the world. It is a small journey now-a-days, this circumnavigation of the globe, and is thought nothing of at the Gallions. Many and curious are the tokens of affection and esteem brought home by these sailor men to their kind hostess; her parlour walls are simply covered with curios of every conceivable kind.”
The interior of the Gallion’s is interesting, and is perfectly described in the Historic England listing: “Notable interior with diagonal timber bracing of massive proportions to ground floor. Oak staircase with enriched balusters and newels. Main saloon contains huge timber bar and original fittings.”
The exterior is equally interesting, with a “roughcast first floor with plaster frieze by Edward Roscoe Mullins”:
According to the excellent book “Docklands – An illustrated historical survey of life and work in east London” (North East London Polytechnic – 1986), the Gallions Hotel was for the “use of liner passengers embarking at the adjacent jetty. A subway used to connect with the Royal Albert Dock Basin”. I have also read that the subway was more a covered walkway between hotel and boarding point for liners.
Whilst the Gallions Hotel (or Galyons using today’s spelling) is still a pub / restaurant today, it is now serving a very different clientele. Not a liner passenger or “old salts and ships captains” in sight.
There is another building nearby which is also still serving the same purpose. This is the Royal Docks Impounding Station (yellow oval in the map at the start of the post):
The purpose of an impounding station is to maintain the water level in the enclosed area of the docks.
The docks gradually loose water through evaporation, seepage through the walls of the dock, and through the lock gates, although this is less of a problem as the lock gates are infrequently opened these days.
To replace lost water, the impounding station pumps water into the docks from the Thames, and on the day of my visit, possibly difficult to see in the following photo, the impounding station was active, and water was upwelling in the area in front of the four pipes which route the water into the basin. The water was very mud coloured compared to the rest of the dock:
The impounding station was built in 1912 and was originally equipped with three steam driven pumps. These were replaced by four electrically powered pumps in 1954.
There is a water intake in the Thames at Gallions Reach, and a 4m by 5.5m intake culvert connects to the impounding station, below which is a large wet well, where water from the intake is then pumped into the dock.
To put the operation of the building into perspective, each of the four pipes leading from the building into the dock are 70 inches in diameter, and through these, each pump and pipe carries 7150 litres of Thames water a second into the dock, and as an Olympic swimming pool is the usual measure when water is concerned, when all four pumps are working they would fill one of these swimming pools in one and a half minutes.
Whilst I have not seen inside the Royal Docks Impounding Station, a few years ago I did visit the impounding station at West India Dock, which you can read about in this post.
Arms of the Port of London Authority and date of construction on the impounding station:
The rear of the impounding station, also showing the new apartment buildings that have been recently built around the west end of the Royal Albert Dock:
By the end of the 19th century, the Royal Victoria and Royal Albert Docks were very busy places. Their colossal length could handle very many large ships at the same time. Cold stores, general warehouses and transit sheds were integrated with a rail network that ran within and around the docks, interconnecting the docks and with the wider national rail network.
Ships were getting larger and faster, and refrigerated shipping brought new opportunities to bring cargo into the country, however the success of the docks was also seen as a threat to many traditional businesses within the UK, as the following extract also from the Civil & Military Gazette on November the 8th, 1893 explains:
“The ships of this line (at any rate those employed in the frozen meat trade), go out with general cargoes round the Cape of Good Hope, and return around Cape Horn; they are away altogether about five months each trip. In addition to the mutton and lamb, a great trade is gradually springing up in butter and cheese, and many tons of these commodities are now imported into England. It seems a poor look out for the wretched British farmer, and something will have to be done for him before long, or the agriculturist in Britain will become as extinct as the dodo; he is undersold at all points, and cannot make a living from the soil.”
As has always been the case, the ability to import large quantities of a product frequently causes a conflict with internal producers which often cannot compete.
There is so very much to see around the Royal Docks, and in next week’s post, I will be walking through the more derelict part of the area, where the entrances between the Thames and the dock are located, walking across a large locked entrance, and then into North Woolwich and Silvertown.
In today’s post, I am continuing my walk around the Royal Victoria Dock, completing the second half of the walk, along with a couple of short diversions to look at how the area around the dock along with Silvertown has, and continues to be, redeveloped.
And this was my first diversion away from the dock, with a walk down to see the Thames Barrier Park:
Thames Barrier Park was completed, and opened in November 2000. Whilst it is a “normal” park, consisting of open green space, trees etc. there is one really unique feature in the park, which can be seen in the map on the poster.
This is a slightly angled, 130 foot long sunken garden, which has parallel lines of planting and hedges, which have been trimmed to give the impression of a series of waves running along the length of the garden.
The following view is looking along the sunken garden from the north, down to the Thames Barrier, which can just be seen in the distance:
I did wonder if the sunken garden occupied the space of a dock, however after checking OS maps of the area, there was no dock covering the length of the garden, although there was a small dock that covered part of the lower section of the sunken garden, towards the river, so whilst this may have been the inspiration for the sunken garden, the large area we see today was down to the construction of the park.
The site was occupied by chemical works (as was so much of the Silvertown riverside), with petrochemical and acid products being processed and manufactured. So great was the contamination of the soil, that a six foot layer of crushed concrete was placed on top of the original ground level to protect the new topsoil.
Whilst I can see that this applied to the area of the park surrounding the sunken garden, as this part of the park is slightly raised, the land of the sunken garden must have been specially treated.
Looking north along the sunken garden, where a DLR train can be seen entering the Pontoon Dock station:
The park is named after the Thames Barrier, and there is a good view of the barrier from the southern end of the park:
The following photo is looking to the east along the river, showing the gently sloping foreshore along this part of the river, along with new apartment buildings and industrial sites on the far side of the river:
Walking back up to North Woolwich Road, and we can see one of the defining industrial features of the area, the Grade II listed Grain Silo D:
Grain Silo D was built in the early 1920s alongside one of the finger channels in Pontoon Dock, off the south side of the Royal Victoria Dock.
The silo was used to extract and store grain from ships moored in the channel alongside, using either a bucket conveyor or by a suction elevator. Grain in the silo would be transported onwards, either by barge, or by the rail network that crossed the area between the mills to the south of the Royal Victoria Dock, and the wider rail network.
Silo D was built on the site of an original silo which was damaged in the Silvertown explosion of January 1917 (the subject of a future post). The following 1921 photo from Britain from Above shows Silo D under final construction to lower left, with the original silos A, B, and C surrounding the new silo (Image Source: EPW006144 ENGLAND (1921). Industrial buildings and wharfage, Silvertown, 1921):
In the above photo, you can see the rail tracks to the left of the silos, with a shed covering part of the track next to each silo. Grain would have been transported by conveyor belt from the silos to the sheds, where is was loaded onto the goods wagons on the rail network, for processing in the nearby Millennium Mills.
Silo D is Grade II listed, and will be retained within the extensive redevelopment which is taking place around Pontoon Dock. It will have its own “Quarter” – the Silo D Quarter, where the building will sit alongside the retained dock water, but surrounded by new developments.
.Another “Quarter” in the redevelopment of the area around Pontoon Dock is the Mills Quarter, which will be based around the old Millennium Mills. At the top of the Lendlease Silvertown website page accessed via the above link, is an image of the rear of the Millennium Mills buildings, once development of the area is complete.
The rear of the building as seen in 2024:
The map at the top of the page on the Lendlease Silvertown website shows just how large the redevelopment is, along the south east section of the Royal Victoria Dock.
Whilst redevelopment of the area that has been derelict for so long is much needed, as are the homes that will be built, the issue I have is the identikit design of the buildings, very similar to almost all other areas of London also undergoing development.
Also, the way (particularly with Silo D), new buildings appear to crowd around those that remain from the working docks.
Having said that, this type of identical housing blocks is a similar approach to the streets of terrace housing that covered so much of the land over which London expanded during the 19th and early decades of the 20th centuries.
There is very little left of pre-war housing around Silvertown. One stretch is along Mill Road just to the west of Silo D, where there is a row of houses on the eastern side of the street, although only the first ten are pre-war, the rest of the street (from just past the lamp post along the street) dates from the late 1950s / early 1960:
In the above photo, a chimney can be seen at the end of Mill Road, and walking to the northern end of the street, close to the Royal Victoria Dock, we can see the chimney in the centre of a roundabout:
I will show the original surroundings of the chimney later in the post as it is a remarkable survivor, however at the end of Mill Road, we can see the western side of the Millennium Mills complex:
Along with the rear of Silo D:
And by the roundabout with the chimney at the centre, if we look at one of the turn offs from the roundabout, which ends abruptly at a gate, we can see the Millennium Mills buildings:
The Millennium Mills we see today are not the original buildings bearing the name.
The Royal Victoria Dock was long a centre for grain storage and flour milling, and the company William Vernon & Sons built the first Millennium Mills in 1905 to mill flour.
Vernon’s produced flour using the brand name “Millennium Flour”, and they won awards and gained a considerable market, based on advertising which featured the quality of their flour, and the expertise that went into their milling process, for example, from the Evening News on Saturday the 13th of February 1909:
“Science controls the ‘Millennium’ Mills. It dictates the operations resulting in ‘Millennium’ Flour, which the good housewife knows makes the best-flavoured and most nutritious bread on the market. Say ‘MILLENNIUM’ to Baker – always.”
And from the Evening News on Friday the 23rd of April 1909:
“Millennium Flour cannot be surpassed. All that science can do has been done at ‘Millennium’ Mills to ensure the production of perfect flour. only the highest grade wheat is used, and absolute cleanliness in every process is insisted upon. Say ‘Millennium’ to Baker – always.”
Vernon’s milling and cleanliness was such that they also advertised that their flour was the purest white on the market.
As well as alongside the Royal Victoria Dock in London, Vernon’s also had a similar mill in Liverpool, another port where imported grain was received. In 1910 they were advertising “Remarkable Facts” about the capacity of their two mills, with:
“The daily capacity of the Millennium Mills is equal to an output of 9,600 bags of 140 lbs. each; i.e. about 3,000,000 per annum – sufficient to supply the seven million people of London with bread for two months and a half.
The loading out capacity into barges or lighters at each mill is 3,000 bags per hour. the Granary departments have a storage capacity of 250,000 sacks of wheat.”
The original Millennium Mills buildings were damaged in the Silvertown explosion, with the mill back in full operation in 1920 as William Vernon & Sons were advertising an auction of all the surplus material left over from the rebuilding process, which included 30,000 stock bricks, 3 Tons of bolts, ladders, barrows, tools etc.
In the same year, William Vernon & Sons amalgamated with Spillers Ltd, another business who started as flour millers in Bridgewater, Somerset in 1829, (although it looks more like a take over by Spillers).
Throughout the 1920s, the business was expanding rapidly, and in the following decades, the buildings alongside the Royal Victoria Dock were rebuilt. Luckily, the buildings have their year of construction at the very top, so going back to the photo above, the smaller building on the right dates from 1933:
And the larger building on the left dates from 1954, which was part of the post war rebuild of the site following bomb damage during the Second World War:
Whilst the name of William Vernon, the company that originally started milling at the Royal Victoria Dock has disappeared, the brand name of their flour “Millennium” can still be seen on the mill building today, alongside the name of the company that took them over – “Spillers”:
The end came n 1981 with the closure of the Royal Docks, although the mill had been in decline for some years before.
And since closure it has remained empty and derelict, but has been been used in numerous films, TV programmes, music videos and, in the case of Jean-Michel Jarre’s Destination Docklands, the building was painted white and used as a backdrop for the concert.
Music videos that have included the mill, along with other views of the docks include Ask by the Smiths:
And Take Back the City by Snow Patrol:
Along with Fluorescent Adolescent by the Artic Monkeys:
There are many others.
From the roundabout, there is a view of the chimney and the Millennium Mills:
And using one of the photos from Britain from Above, it is possible to locate where the chimney was, in relation to the rest of the buildings that were on the site, both remaining and demolished (Image source: https://www.britainfromabove.org.uk/image/EAW035762)
The arrows point to the following:
The red arrow is pointing to the chimney that now stands alone at the centre of a small roundabout
The oranage arrow is pointing to the 1933 building that can be seen today
The yellow arrow points to the 1954 building, which can also be seen today
The green arrow is pointing to the infrastructure that was used to extract grain from ships and move to the mill buildings. i have included my father’s photo of these structures from his 1953 visit, below:
I have now reached the edge of the dock, and one of the first areas that was redeveloped around the Royal Victoria Dock – Britannia Village:
Britannia Village occupies the south west corner of the Royal Victoria Dock and was built during the 1990s and consists of, by today’s standards, relatively low rise housing, typically up to four or five floors.
Between the houses that face onto the dock, and the dock, there is a walkway along the old quay, where a number of original cranes have been retained:
The cranes are all Grade II listed, and were made by Stothert and Pitt Cranes of Bath. The majority date from 1962, however there are two 1950’s cranes included in those still standing around the dock.
All the industry that once surround the Royal Docks has long gone, as has the majority of industry along the river, however there were two places that I wanted to find that have survived, because they are dependent on the river rather than the docks.
I will cover the main site when I walk around the Royal Albert and King George V docks, but for today, it was a short walk south from the south west corner of the Royal Victoria Dock to find the factory that makes Lyle’s Golden Syrup:
Abram Lyle was born in Greenock, Scotland in 1820 and operated a cooperage and shipping business, with many of his ships transporting sugar cane.
In 1881, he expanded on this involvement in the sugar trade, by building a sugar refinery along the Thames.
Part of the process to refine sugar produces a thick treacle like substance, and Lyle used this byproduct to produce a syrup which could be used in cooking and as a sweetener. This was originally called “Goldie”.
The name soon changed to Lyle’s Golden Syrup, and in 1885, the syrup was sold for the first time in tins, with the same branding that has survived to this day (the company holds a Guinness World Record for the longest running brand), and the company today has one of the tins on the corner of their building:
The trademark on the tin names Abram Lyle & Sons, Sugar Refiners, with an image of a lion in the centre surrounded by bees. This image is a result of Abram Lyle’s religious convictions as the image is based on a story in the Old Testament of the Bible of Samson’s lion and bees, which results in the slogan “Out of the strong came forth sweetness”, which can be seen just below the lion.
Abram Lyle’s company merged with the sugar refining company of Henry Tate, who also had a nearby sugar refinery (in a later post), to form Tate & Lyle.
Tate & Lyle sold their sugar refining business, which included Lyle’s Golden Syrup in 2010 to American Sugar Refining, Inc. (part of their ASR name can just be seen in the above photo), with Tate & Lyle focusing on specialty ingredients. Part of the sale included American Sugar Refining continuing to use the Tate & Lyle and Lyle’s Golden Syrup branding.
The factory on the banks of the Thames today produces over one million tins of Lyle’s Golden Syrup, which is also sold in different formats such as plastic bottles, and is exported across the world.
A wonderful survivor from when this part of the river was end to end industry.
To the east of the Lyle’s factory is a large open space, which is not included in the main Silvertown development to the south of the Royal Victoria Dock, and around Pontoon Dock, however its location next to the river makes it a prime future redevelopment site:
After this brief diversion, I have returned to the Royal Victoria Dock, and am now at the south west corner, looking east along the dock:
To the left, I can see the western end of the Royal Victoria Dock, indeed of the whole Royal Docks complex. Where the white floats in the water are located was the locked entrance between the River Thames and the Royal Victoria Dock, the original and only entrance when the Victoria Dock was first built:
This locked entrance was completely filled in after the closure of the docks, but the outline of the entrance can still be seen at this corner of the dock. To the right is the latest site of City Hall – the location of the Mayor of London and London Authority.
And from the end of the dock, I can look east along the full length of the Royal Victoria Dock, a view which shows the sheer scale of this dock, just one of three that eventually made up the Royal Docks complex:
In the above photo, the thin line of the walkway bridge that spans the dock roughly half way along can be seen in the distance.
Zooming in, we can see the bridge, and behind that the Connaught Bridge where the Royal Victoria meet the Royal Albert Dock, and this later dock is much longer than the Victoria:
There is very little that has survived from the time when the docks were operational. The cranes are the most obvious features, and at this western end of the dock there is an old capstan:
Which was also made by Stothert and Pitt of Bath, the same company that made the cranes that remain around the dock:
Looking across the western end of the dock, and we can see the start (or end) of the cable car that runs over the river to the Greenwich Peninsula:
Before continuing round the western end of the docks, I took another quick diversion down towards the river, to see a construction site for a new route across the river that will soon be operational:
This is a large area between the west end of the Royal Victoria Dock, and the river, all to the west of the Lyle Golden Syrup factory. Boarded off so it is not yet possible to walk down to the river, and with part of the Docklands Light Railway running across, which provides a good view of the site:
This is the site on the north of the river where the Silvertown Tunnel is being constructed.
The Silvertown Tunnel is expected to open in 2025 and and as well as lanes for traffic, it will also include a dedicated bus lane. First proposed in 2012, the tunnel is intended to address congestion issues at the Blackwall Tunnel by providing additional capacity across the river.
Construction of the Silvertown Tunnel along with ongoing operation and maintenance has all been privately financed, and when the tunnel opens there will be a charge applied to vehicles using the tunnel, and to stop people continuing to use the Blackwall Tunnel as a free alternative, a charge will also be introduced to use the Blackwall Tunnel.
Looking through one of the access gates to the construction site, we can see the distinctive building that is on top of the northern access portal to the tunnel, where traffic running to and from Silvertown Way and Lower Lea Crossing, will be able to access the tunnel to and from the Greenwich Peninsula:
When complete, the area around the tunnel portal will be landscaped, and completion of construction work will free up a considerable area of land around the portal, and down to the Thames for further development.
It will be interesting to return towards the end of next year when the tunnel should be in operation. It will continue to be a construction site, but then probably lots of apartment blocks.
Returning to the western end of the Royal Victoria Dock and this is the new City Hall building, home of the Mayor of London and the London Authority:
The building was originally called the Crystal and was built by the engineering company Siemens and opened in 2012 as an exhibition centre, learning and global knowledge hub focusing on the future of the city and on sustainability.
When it opened, Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London said that “It is a clear sign of the confidence in London’s ability to nurture and support eco-enterprises that Siemens has chosen to locate its flagship centre of sustainability here in the UK capital. The Crystal is set to sit at the heart of a brand new Green Enterprise District, which will sweep across east of the city. We envisage that the district will be a vibrant, international hub incubating dozens of low carbon businesses.”
Four years later, Siemens sold the building back to the Greater London Authority and left the building a few years later after an early surrender of their 7 year lease on the building.
In 2021, the London Authority used a break clause in their lease of the City Hall building on the south of the Thames, next to Tower Bridge. The London Authority did not own the original City Hall, it was leased from the the Kuwaiti owned St Martin’s Property Group, who also own the surrounding land and buildings between Hay’s Wharf and Tower Bridge.
The move to a building the London Authority already owned was planned to saved a large amount of money over the following years, along with being part of the regeneration of the Royal Docks complex, by moving a significant London institution, along with a large number of staff, to the docks.
It is interesting that the London Authority and Mayor of London are now based in a building that was until 1965, part of Essex, when the implementation of the London Government Act 1963 transferred the area to the east of the River Lea from Essex to Greater London.
The same comment applies to the Royal Docks, as for most of their operational life, they were in Essex, rather than London.
in the same year as the Crystal building opened (2012), the cable car also opened, taking passengers across the river to the Greenwich Peninsula, and opposite the new City Hall building is the Royal Victoria Dock entrance to the cable car, where gondolas start their journey across the river:
The Cable Car has never been the success expected during planning, and after an initial peak of users after opening in 2012, the annual number of travelers on the cable car has dropped considerably, with summer peaks showing that the cable car is mainly used by visitors to the Royal Docks and Greenwich Peninsula, rather than commuters or workers.
The following graph shows the number of travelers in millions from 2012 on the left to April 2024. For the reporting period of 2023 / 2024, the maximum usage was 180,000 a month, with the minimum usage being 70,000 a month.
Gondolas leave and arrive over the Royal Victoria Dock:
I am now on my final part of the walk around the Royal Victoria Dock, and leaving the dock at the north west corner, I cross the Western Gateway, which is the main approach road to the Excel exhibition centre. Fully redeveloped with a bit of retail, hotels, restaurants and residential:
On the opposite side of the Western Gateway, where Seagull Lane heads to the DLR station, is this strange structure:
This was built between 1987 and 1988 as one of the early projects in the regeneration of the Royal Docks.
The blue painting of the circular structures is now rather faded. When completed, this was a deep blue, with red and yellow for additional features of the station.
These colours were chosen as “from the outset the building was meant to be a visual delight, an oasis in the drab industrial environment of Silvertown”.
Much of the area around the Royal Victoria Dock has changed considerably in the years since the pumping station was completed, and there is not that much of the “drab industrial environment” left.
And a short distance further, I reached the Royal Victoria DLR station, a fitting end to a walk around the whole of the Royal Victoria Dock:
I hope the last three posts on the Royal Docks and a walk around the Royal Victoria Dock has shown just how interesting the area is, from the vast area of the water that made up the original dock, to the way that the dock evolved and developed, the industries that surrounded the dock, and the potential future of the dock.
The development around Pontoon Dock, the old Millennium Mill and Silo D will be transformative in one way or another.
I just hope that some reference to the history of the docks survives and the story of those who built and worked at the docks is embedded into the new developments, and that the area does not become another densely packed area of identikit towers.
And to finish, if you would like to relive the Jean Michel Jarre, Destination Docklands concert back in 1988, held in the Royal Victoria Dock, with the mill buildings in the background, including the building that was in one of my father’s photos in last week’s post, before it was demolished a few years later, the film is here:
If I remember correctly, the concert was on a barge on the dock (which was probably why children in the choir were wearing lifejackets). I have no idea how the electrical equipment they were using continued to work given the very wet weather on the day.
I still have to cover the Royal Albert and King George VI Docks, however rather than a continuous run of posts on the Royal Docks, for next week’s post I will be visiting a very different place.
