There are two areas of London that probably have the highest concentration of pubs in the whole city – the City of London and Soho.
Much of the wider London area once had a far higher number of pubs than now. You only have to look at old OS maps from the end of the 19th century to see just how many there were in, for example, east London, with some areas having a pub almost on every street corner.
Whilst many have closed, a high number have survived in the City of London due to the number of City workers and the type of business in the City being conducive to socialising and meeting in pubs. Whilst the traditional liquid lunch has mainly become a thing of the past, one only has to walk through the City on a summer’s afternoon to see plenty of busy pubs, with drinkers spilling out onto the pavement.
I went on a walk to find City of London pubs back in 2020, and the first of three posts on these establishments can be found here.
The other area of London with a high density of pubs is Soho.
As with the City of London, Soho has always been a distinctive area with historically many aspects of the place being conducive to pub culture. There continue to be a high number of pubs in Soho to this day. Generally always busy with locals, workers, visitors and tourists, and four years after searching for City pubs, I thought I would explore Soho pubs, and today is the first of three posts over the coming couple of months detailing the results.
Every Soho pub has a back story. Some extensive, some quite humble, but there is something to discover for each pub, the majority of which have been there, and often rebuilt, since the 18th century.
So today is the first post on Soho pubs, and I will start with a visit to:
The Devonshire – Denman Street
There are plenty of pubs closing and it is not often that a pub reopens, but that it what has happened with the Devonshire.
Originally the Devonshire Arms, the pub dates back to 1793, and for the following 219 years it was a typical Soho local pub.
The Devonshire Arms closed in 2012 and soon after became a Jamie’s Italian restaurant.
The building’s use as a restaurant ended a couple of years ago, and new owners completely refurbished the building to the standard of a traditional pub on the ground floor, and restaurant seating on the upper floors, and reopened as the Devonshire in 2023.
Judging by how many people are using the pub every time I have been in, or walked past, it appears to be very successful, and apparently has the reputation of selling the most pints of Guinness of any pub in London.
Looking back at the history of the pub, the only thing I could find were recurring stories of typical London low level crime, however there was one report, dating from the 18th of August, 1894 which highlighted some of the challenges of policing 19th century London:
“On Saturday evening a desperate affray took place outside the Devonshire Arms public-house, Denman-street. it appears that a constable was called to eject some men and women from the public-house named. When they got outside the mob made a rush at the policeman, who was thrown to the ground. He got up, however, and blew his whistle, and several other constables quickly arrived. A desperate fight then took place, in the course of which one of the policemen was stabbed in the back by one of the women with a large hair pin. Other constables then arrived, and after much trouble four men and two women were taken to Vine-street station. Several hundred people witnessed the conflict.”
Hopefully the Devonshire now has a more peaceful, and long future as a restored Soho pub.
The Queens Head – Denman Street
The Queens Head in Denman Street is a lovely traditional, independent London pub.
My use of the word traditional is for a pub which has a bar, typically all wood, with hand pumps. Shelves behind the bar full of bottles of spirits. A large bar area with a mix of seating and standing, with wooden seats and tables. The Queens Head is independent in that it is not tied to a specific brewery, and therefore able to sell a range of beers and spirits.
The Queens Head claims to date back to 1736. I cannot find any evidence that would either confirm or contradict the date.
There are plenty of newspaper references to the Queens Head, petty crime, the societies who used the pub as their meeting place etc. but my favourite was an article that shows that back in 1874 you could get a large fine or a prison sentence for lying on your CV.
John Holder,a 24 year old barman was taken to court accused of fraud. He had applied for a job as a barmen at the Nightingale Pub in St. John’s Wood.
He said to his prospective new employer that he had worked at the Queens Head in Denman Street but had left after a change of ownership, and that Mr. Cardwell, his previous employer at the Queens Head would give him a reference.
He gave an address for Mr. Cardwell, and his prospective employer went to the address to confirm his references, however his was told that no one knew Mr. Cardwell, and after talking to the Queens Head, it was confirmed that John Holder had not worked at the pub.
In mitigation, poor John Holder told the court that he had been out of work for some time, and could not get a job, and was very sorry for what he had done.
Despite this, he was convicted of fraud and he had to either pay the full penalty of £20 and 10 shillings of costs, or be imprisoned in the House of Correction for three months.
Given his lack of work, I suspect he ended up in the House of Correction for three months, a penalty which seems very harsh for someone who appears to have just been desperate to get a job.
The Crown – Brewer Street
The Crown in Brewer Street, at the corner with Lower James Street.
The Crown is one of the many Soho pubs that has some interesting decoration. Facing Brewer Street, the pub has two upper floors, with a row of four windows along each floor, however along the narrower side of the building, the second floor has a large semi-circle of decoration with the name of the Crown Tavern displayed.
There is some interesting history covering the location of the pub on a panel on the ground floor:
The panel states that the Crown sits on the site of one of the most well known concert halls of the 18th century, the Hickford Rooms.
I found an article about the Hickford Rooms in an issue of the Musical Times, titled “A Forgotten Concert Room”. The following is from the first paragraph of the article, and I will give you the date of the article after this extract:
“Modern London is becoming a new Americanised city, and all its old and peculiarly English characteristics are fast becoming improved out of existence. If anyone who left it during the sixties of the last century return to visit it today, he will imagine himself to be in some foreign town, and for the most part fail to recognise the London he knew so intimately of old.”
That was the opening to the article, published in the Musical Times on the 1st of September 1906, and illustrates what is a theme of the blog, that London has undergone almost continuous change for the entire period there has been people living in what we now call London.
The introduction also follows up on last week’s blog, that the 19th century was one of the periods when there was a high degree of change that set the city on course for the following century.
The article provides the following introduction to Hickford’s Room:
“The long-forgotten old concert-room in Brewer Street has fortunately escaped demolition, and it recalls a chapter of London’s musical history little noticed by the general reader. The building now forms part of the premises of the Club Francais, but for thirty-five years during the middle of the 18th century, it was a much frequented and fashionable resort, and was known by the name of Hickford’s Room.
John Hickford, the proprietor, began life as a dancing-master in the latter part of Queen Anne’s reign, and originally had a dancing school in James Street, Haymarket. There was at that time only one other room in the West-end large enough for concerts of any pretensions, and as that was sometimes difficult to secure, and its proprietor was not a particularly agreeable man, certain well-known artists began to make use of Mr. Hickford’s great dancing room wherein to give their concerts.”
The school mentioned above was in Haymarket, but became so successful that Hickford then moved to the site in Brewer Street, where it was assumed the new hall was designed specifically for Hickford.
The front door of the new hall opened into a square hall, which gave access to the concert room which was at the back of the building, and there was also a staircase which gave access to a small gallery.
The concert room was fifty feet long and thirty feet wide, and the ceiling was coved, and there were moldings, cornices and other decorations, that were in an “elegant style that the brothers Adam improved upon”.
The article mentions a large number of artists who performed at Hickford’s Room, and has the following to say about Mozart playing in Brewer Street:
“Two other shadows, brother and sister, play the harpsichord. The boy is eight years old, the girl thirteen, a demure, motherly child, her hair crowned by a mop-cap. The boy’s playing is phenomenal, and he bids fair to rival Mr. Handel in composition. But the scanty audience is not interested, it cares no longer for these two children who only a year ago were the spoiled darlings of the whole town. The little boy fulfilled in manhood the brilliant promise of his youth, and London should be proud that it still possesses a room once distinguished by the performance of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Hickford’s Hall soon faced competition from other halls in London, along with changing fashions as in the later part of the 18th century, interest changed from small musical recitals to orchestral performances, which Hickford’s Hall was not large enough to accommodate.
As well as music, the hall put on other events such as talks and lectures, including in 1761, Thomas Sheridan who gave a “Course of Lectures on Elocution”.
Over the following years, the hall went through a number of changes in owners and use, but survived until 1934 when it was demolished to make way for an annex of the Regent Palace Hotel.
If the hall lasted until 1934, it obviously raises the question of how can the pub be on the site.
As far as I can tell (given the time available for a weekly blog post), the house and main entrance to the hall was on the site of the Crown, and the hall was to the rear of the Crown.
The earliest reference to the crown that I can find are from the years around 1830, so I suspect the house and entrance to the hall were demolished and the Crown was built, with the hall surviving just behind the pub, until demolition in 1934.
Glasshouse Stores – Brewer Street
The Glasshouse Stores is another pub that claims to date back to the 1730s, however the rather unusual current name is not the original, as it had the more traditional pub name of the Coach and Horses.
The last time I can find the original name mentioned is in 1849, and by 1872 the name Glasshouse Stores was in use, as the pub was advertising for an active, single young man, to work as a Potman, and also to wait on the Billiard Room, to wash pewter and also the windows of the pub – so basically anything that was needed.
No idea why the pub changed its name, or the relevance of the new name, however it demonstrates that changing a pub name is not a recent phenomena.
The Sun and 13 Cantons – Great Pulteney Street
The Sun and 13 Cantons must have one of the most unusual pub names in London.
The pub’s website claims that the source of the name is from the Swiss watch-making community that lived and worked in Soho in the late 1800s.
The pub also claims that the name of the pub was originally just “The Sun”, and the 13 Cantons was added in 1882 when the pub reopened after a rebuild, however I am not so sure, and am confident that the pub had its full name of The Sun and 13 Cantons earlier in the 19th century. For example, the following is from the London Morning Advertiser on the 13th of May, 1823:
“Dr. Dell, of the Sun and 13 Cantons, Great Pultney-street, was fined fifteen shillings and costs for the like offence.”
The “like offence” was referring to another fine in the paper where a licensee of a different pub was fined for serving customers after twelve o’clock.
The Englishman (published in London) on the 3rd of June, 1832 had a report about a fire where a couple of people had died, and in the report was stated:
“The inquest was held at the Sun and 13 Cantons, Great Pulteney-street”
To add some mystery, in the London Morning Post on the 22nd of April, 1825, there was an advert for an auction, where Lot 2 was “The Sun and 13 Cantons, Liquor Shop and Public House, on the east side of Castle-street, Leicester Square, adjoining Cecil-court.”
So there are two newspaper reports, one from 1823 and the other form 1832 both referring to the Sun and 13 Cantons being in Great Pultney Street, as it still is today, on the corner with Beak Street, well before the 1882 mentioned on the pub’s website.
The 1825 report is strange as it refers to a pub with the same name, but being in a different, but nearby, location. It is an unusual name for there to be two pubs of the same name, although they were close, so probably had the same association with local Swiss watch makers.
An interesting pub, with a name that recalls some of the people and trades that have made Soho their home.
Old Coffee House – Beak Street
The Old Coffee House is a really good, family run pub, and is well worth a visit for a proper local pub.
The name is strange for a pub, but it does tell of the early history of the site.
The main entrance to the pub today is on Beak Street, and to find the original purpose of the site, we need to look at name changes. The first part of Beak Street was built in 1689 by Thomas Beak, and he gave his name to this first section of the street.
The section of the street where the Old Coffee House is located was developed in 1718, and went by the name of Silver Street. This name was dropped in 1883, when the whole of both Beak and Silver Streets became Beak Street.
A Coffee House was originally on the site of the current pub, and went by the name of the Silver Street Coffee House. I cannot find exactly when the establishment changed from being a coffee house to a pub, but it seems to have been around the 1870s / 1880s, and with a lovely bit of continuity, it kept the Coffee House name as part of the new pub name.
The Old Coffee House appears to have had a number of associations with the theatre, as in the 1920s it was the meeting place on a Sunday morning for members of the Electrical Trades Union Cinema & Theatrical Branch, and in 1948, the Sphere was reporting that the pub had “a very large audition room which has often been used for theatrical rehearsals”. The pub is larger than the pink painted section suggests, as the pub extends further along Marshall Street to the right.
A lovely, traditional Soho pub.
John Snow – Corner of Broadwick Street and Lexington Street
The John Snow pub stands on the corner of Broadwick Street (originally Broad Street) and Lexington Street (originally Cambridge Street). A number of streets in this area of Soho have changed their names since the mid 19th century.
The pub building dates from the 1870s, and was originally called the “Newcastle-upon-Tyne”, The name changed in 1955 to commemorate the centenary of the work in the area of John Snow.
Dr. John Snow, often called the founding father of Epidemiology was known for his work on the transmission of Cholera in London, and he would demonstrate conclusively how this killer of large numbers of Londoners was transmitted. Perhaps hs most well known work was on the location of the source of a Cholera outbreak in 1854 in Broad Street, Soho area.
It is a really fascinating story, and instead of including it in this post about Soho pubs, click here for a dedicated post I wrote a couple of years ago about John Snow and the Soho Cholera Outbreak of 1854.
Star and Garter – Poland Street
The Star and Garter in Poland Street is a lovely little pub squashed between two much later and larger buildings.
Researching the pub, it highlights how pubs once served an essential purpose as the meeting place of clubs and societies, and with the Star and Garter it seems to have been the regular meeting place of two groups who were looking to protect the interests of workers and to campaign for improved rights.
in 1834, the Star and Garter was the meeting place for a Society of Journeymen Tailors, and on joining the society, those working in the trade would “meet with constant employment, and the protection from malicious threats of those who are regardless of their own, or the wellbeing of others”.
In 1868 the Star and Garter was the meeting place of the “West End Cabinetmakers’ Branch of the Reform League”. The Reform League was founded in 1865, and campaigned for all adult males to have the vote.
These meetings also identify some of the trades that once occupied Soho, and as well as watchmakers (from the Sun and 13 Cantons), we also now have tailors and cabinet makers.
The meetings in the Star and Garter in 1868 tell of the long struggle for universal suffrage, the right for every adult in the country to have the vote.
In 1831, only 4,500 men in the whole of the country could vote in parliamentary elections. These 4,500 were generally landowners, and there was incredible inconsistencies across the country where the Borough of Dunwich in Suffolk (population 32, and one of the Rotten Boroughs) could elect two MPs, whilst the expanding industrial cities of Birmingham and Manchester did not have any MPs.
Parliament did, very grudgingly, expand the male vote, for example the Second Reform Act of 1867 expanded the vote to men who owned houses or lodgers who paid rent of £10 a year or more.
It would not be until the 1918 Representation of the People Act that the vote was extended to all men, and also gave the vote to women over the age of thirty who owned property, and all women would have to wait until the Equal Franchise Act of 1928, when any women over the age of 21 (the same as men) would get the vote.
When you sit in pubs such as the Star and Garter, having a pint on a summer afternoon, it is fascinating to think of the Londoners who met here to plan how they would be part of a wider campaign for the vote.
Blue Posts – Corner of Broadwick Street and Berwick Street
On the corner of Broadwick Street and Berwick Street is the Blue Posts pub. The current rather attractive building dates from a 1914 rebuild, however there had been a pub on the site since the original development of the area.
The lantern and decoration on the corner of the pub:
As with other Soho pubs, the Blue Posts was frequently used for auditioning those who wanted to get into the entertainment business, and a typical advert (this example from the Stage in 1925) reads:
“Wanted for Mrs Sydney T. Russelle’s Troupes, good all round Lady Dancers. immediate work for the Continent and England. Only first-class ladies need apply between 2 and 4 Thurs and Fridays at the Blue Posts, Berwick Street”
The Blue Posts also has a rather obscure claim to cinematic fame when a model of the pub was destroyed by a brontosaurus in the 1925 film Lost World. The following clip shows the pub just before the brontosaurus crashes in and demolishes the building:
Apparently the animators, who created a rather impressive animated film for the 1920s, drank in the pub they chose to destroy for the film.
There is a Westminster City Council green plaque on the Berwick Street side of the pub, recording that Jessie Matthews, “Musical Comedy Star of Stage and Screen” was born in Berwick Street in 1907. She was not born in the pub, rather in a flat above a butchers shop at 94 Berwick Street, which is almost half way along Berwick Street from the pub.
Perhaps the Council decided that the Blue Posts was a more permanent building, in a more visible location, to display the plaque then the place of her birth.
Duke of Wellington – Wardour Street
The website of the pub describes the pub as “Serving the LGBTQIA+ community for over 20 years, the Duke of Wellington takes pride in being your Soho local” and it is a very busy Soho pub.
It has long had a Wardour Street address, desite the long length of the building being on Winnett Street.
In 1966, the Tatler described the Duke of Wellington as “facing the stage door of the Queen’s Theatre. perhaps the most famous after-theatre pub in Soho. It has been the property of Christ College Hospital since 1723, and Mr. W. Evans has been the tenant since 1931. Old Tudor beams, stag heads and antique vaults. Home-made lunches are enjoyable and plenty of stimulating theatre chat could keep one going until closing time.”
Today, the pub is owned by the Stonegate Group (was known as the Stonegate Pub Company). I cannot find whether this is freehold or leased, but I suspect that Christ College Hospital have sold the site in the past few decades.
The Ship – Wardour Street
The Ship has a Wardour Street address, and is on the corner of Wardour Street and Flaxman Court.
Again, a lovely traditional pub, but a pub which had a more interesting name than just the Ship.
Dating from the late 18th century, and rebuilt in the late 19th century, the pub was originally called “The Ship in Distress”.
I cannot find any reference to the source of the name, whether it referred to a specific ship, or whether it was just an imagined name.
The last mention I can find of the name Ship in Distress is on the 9th of July, 1865, when in a list of license transfers in the Weekly Advertiser, the license for the Ship in Distress was reported as transferring from Charles Humby to Robert Henwood, although in 1859, the pub was referred to as the “New Ship” in a number of newspapers, for example with reports of the results of a Billiard competition between pubs.
The pub may have changed name at the same time as a rebuild, and the use of the old name with the license renewal six years after the name “New Ship” was in use, may just have been an error with records not catching up with name changes.
The name may have changed as the “Ship in Distress” is a rather depressing name, recording either a factual or fictional tragic event. New landlords / owners may have wanted to have a more positive name, and changed to the Ship, which was probably how the pub was called in day to day use.
In recent decades, the Ship was frequently used by many of the musicians who lived, performed, and had business in the area of Wardour Street. The Marquis Club was a short walk from the Ship, and there are various stories about Keith Moon of the Who being banned from the Ship, the Clash drinking in the pub, along with many other musicians.
The George – D’Arblay Street
The George is on the corner of D’Arblay Street and Wardour Street.
To help with dating the building, the year 1897 is displayed on the corner of the building, on the first floor, and on the second floor there is an image of presumably one of the King George’s that the pub is named after.
The Survey of London records that the George has been here since at least 1739, so at around the same time as the street was laid out in 1735. Based on this date, the George could be George II who became monarch in the year 1727.
The George was originally on Portland Street, the original name of the street that became D’Arblay Street in 1909 after Fanny Burney (the novelist, diarist and playwright, who lived from 1752 to 1840), and who lived in Soho, and married French émigré General Alexandre D’Arblay.
I find it strange that to name a street after a woman, you use the surname of her husband. I am always cautious with applying a 21st century view to earlier times, however a quick newspaper search, and the name Fanny Burney was used many, many more times both during and after her life, rather than Madame D’Arblay as she was also known, so rather than D’Arblay Street, perhaps the street should be called Burney Street.
The Hat Tavern – Great Chapel Street
I was in two minds whether to include this establishment, which has a full name of Mr Fogg’s Hat Tavern, and is on the corner of Great Chapel Street and Hollen Street. It is one of a number of taverns and gin establishments across London which go under the Mr. Fogg brand, named after Phileas J. Fogg, the lead character in Jules Verne novel Around the World in Eighty Days.
It is a pub on the ground floor, and a gin club in the basement.
The name Hat Tavern is taken from the building on the opposite side of Hollen Street, which still has the wording “Hat Factory Henry Heath Oxford Street”.
The Henry Heath Hat Factory occupied a large site between Hollen Street and Oxford Street, where hats were manufactured, and sold from the building that faced onto Oxford Street.
The company manufactured hats for a range for uses, from sporting (such as ventilated hunting caps for ladies and gentlemen) to formal (with silk hats).
In 1885, the company was advertising “The Exhibition of ‘RATIONAL DRESS’ – HENRY HEATH of 107, Oxford Street has a sensible improvement in the shape of a soft-banded hat. Everyone knows the painful sensation experienced from the pressure of the usual stiff felt or silk hat; this is quite obviated in the hat manufactured by HENRY HEATH”.
In 1922, Henry Heath celebrated their centenary, and in newspapers announced that their rebuilt showroom in Oxford Street was now open. The factory between Oxford and Hollen Streets employed 200 workers, and their hat making skills led to the following 1922 description of the business in the Pall Mall Gazette:
“Henry Heath has supplied the headgear of each succeeding monarch during the century that has elapsed between George IV and George V, as well as of all the notabilities of each reign. The Prince of Wales, just before his Indian tour, appointed Henry Heath his hatter by Royal Warrant. many foreign monarchs too, have been fitted by Henry Heath, and have appointed him Royal hatter; the King of Spain amongst them.
Such is the International reputation of ‘Ye Hatterie’ as the famous establishment in Oxford-street is known, that visitors from all parts of the globe come to this historic house to be fitted with their headgear while sojourning in London.”
The last mention of Henry Heath hats I could find was in Country Life in 1962 where one of their soft brown hats were been shown as part of an overall outfit. In the 1930s, 40s and 50s they seem to have either moved to, or opened a showroom in New Bond Street, and the number of adverts in the London press declined gradually.
Whether they were still an independent company in the 1960s, I cannot confirm, however it appears that the Henry Heath brand disappeared in the 1960s, most likely the victim of changing fashions and cheaper imports.
The building that once had Henry Heath’s showroom is still to be seen in Oxford Street, and it is an interesting building which I will save for a future post.
That was a bit of a diversion, but it explains why the Hat Tavern has the name.
Before the Hat Tavern opened, the building was the Star pub / coffee shop, before that the Bloemfontein, and originally the George, with the first reference I could find for the George being in the Morning Chronicle in 1817.
The Nellie Dean of Soho – Dean Street
The Nellie Dean of Soho occupies a listed building, and the Grade II listing details on the Historic England site states:
“Corner public house. Possibly earlier C18 fabric, refronted c.1800 with c.1900 pub front. Stock brick, slate roof, 3 storeys and dormered mansard. 4 windows wide with 3 window returns to Carlisle Street. c.1900 pilastered pub front to ground floor with angled entrance on corner. Upper floors have recessed sash windows, no glazing bars, under red brick gauged flat arches. Crowning stucco cornice with open cast iron balustrade in front of mansard. Formerly called the “Highlander”. A public house was on the site in 1748. Prominent corner with strong group value.”
The first reference I can find to the Highlander pub is from 1826 when the pub featured in a court report where the defendant was identified as living at the Highlander.
The name Nellie Dean comes from the sentimental song “(You’re My Heart’s Desire, I Love You) Nellie Dean” written by the American composer Henry W. Armstrong in 1905.
The song became the signature song of the music hall star Gertie Gitana, after her brother had heard the song whilst in America.
Gertie Gitana died in 1957, and the following is typical of newspaper reporting of her burial at Wigston Magna, Leicestershire:
“A cold wind blew through the scores of wreaths that had been hung over the railings at the edge of the grave as more than 200 people stood in silent tribute to the gay, sunbonnet girl of the old time music hall.
Gertie was more than just a variety artist. She expressed the spirit of her age and the careless rapture that went with it. Her songs were sad, but they were also gay.
Before Nellie Dean became a stock song for gentlemen songsters on a spree, she could, by swinging it, make it sound like the happiest ballad in the world.
To many she was Nellie Dean and many of the wreaths at her graveside were addressed in this way. Flowers arranged in notes of music came from her music hall friends. There were wreaths from the Variety Artists Federation, the Water Rats, Robb Wilton and entertainers from each corner of the British Isles.
All wished to say to Gertie Gitana – Thanks for the memory.”
Gertie Gitana singing Nellie Dean (if you cannot see the video, click here to go to the website):
And that is the origin of the Nellie Dean of Soho in Dean Street. I wonder if Nellie Dean is still a “stock song for gentlemen songsters on a spree” in the pubs of Soho.
I will continue my exploration of Soho pubs in a few weeks time.