Spending a Penny

Many of you are probably thinking ‘will the Runoff EVER get around to doing a piece on public conveniences?’ Well, due to the popularity of a few Insta pics (if you haven’t already, please join us there as we’re loads of fun)  we’ve decided to create an article about the long closed Victorian public convenience in Kennington Cross, which is currently on the rental market.

The Kennington Cross WC was engineered by B. Finch & Co. in 1898 in a Victorian movement to make London a more hygienic place (read ‘so blokes wouldn’t pee in the street’). It features an array of beautiful marble and iron urinals with a glass tank on top, three cubicles, a mosaic tile floor and a booth for attendants. To keep the critters occupied while nature calls, at the street level there is a horse/cattle trough (1880) that precedes the WC. Sadly, Lambeth Council closed the toilet in 1988 but since then a headstrong group of volunteers have endeavoured to keep it falling to middle earth. Whoever rents this unique property will need to be conscious that it is, thank the urinal gods, Grade 2 listed. 

Over the past ten years, clever people have been turning disused toilets into equally clever things. There is a cute mini chain of wine/charcuterie bars called ‘WC’ and we’ve visited the one in Bloomsbury. The closest ours has to come to anything that interesting is when it was a pop up arts venue called ‘Arts Lav’ in 2017. At 387 square feet we think it might be too small to be converted into a bar or even a tea shop, but one person who got in touch told us that he was married in the toilets, so in reality it could be converted into anything. Whatever it might be, it will hopefully be developed into something that we can all visit and appreciate.   

UnEarthing the Elephant

The capacity for our community to transform and evolve is sometimes more than us mere humans can absorb. To those who don’t visit Elephant and Castle regularly, it can be unsettling to see how it’s changed over the past 10 years. 

We recently discovered a charming, 22 minute short film called ‘UnEarthing Elephant’ about the people and community that sprung up in Elephant and Castle shopping centre. Shot in 2017, it’s both a celebration and an elegy to a shopping centre that people knew was doomed but not when. The touching and at times funny personal stories of love/hate relationships are mixed with tales of how the shopping centre never really worked until saved by small, independent shopkeepers, many of whom were immigrants to the UK. 

Credits to the amazing Eva Sajovic, who created the piece and narrates most of it. 

And we’ll never forget the erotic massage chairs……

Chilling in Vauxhall

From the 2022 archives, the sixth and final of best of history posts!

When you woke this morning you probably weren’t thinking ‘you know what, what I really NEED today is to read about a cold storage facility’. But as we’ve seen in the past two years, life is full of unexpected antics. Some of the more mature residents of Greater Kennington might recall that for 35 years (1964-1999) the monolithic Nine Elms Cold Storage  facility dominated the Vauxhall skyline, located exactly where the round St. George Wharf tower now presides, and it has a history that might just leave you shivering. 

In the 1960’s Vauxhall/Nine Elms was not dominated by million pound flats and swimming pools in the sky, but by railway yards. It was a key transport terminus by rail and river, and our Cold Store was erected to provide a chilly home for meat, butter and fish. However, by the late 1970’s improvements in refrigeration and transport made the building redundant, and it became derelict after just 15 years of life. And this is when our story becomes interesting….

The people of Vauxhall are nothing if not creative, and following the closure of the Cold Store it was used illicitly as a cruising ground, a recording studio, a performance space and even a convenient spot for devil worshiping. On the cruising front, it was the place to pull if you hadn’t been lucky at the nearby Market Tavern (RIP) or Vauxhall Tavern. Guys had to negotiate a 10 foot padlocked steel gate with razor wire, but once that had been conquered one was rewarded with the world’s largest dark room (we assume not the film developing kind). 

One of the abiding stories of the Cold Store is that it was used for satanic worship, or just performance artists trying out new material.  In one recollection a certain ‘archbishop’ took people on tours that ended at a double bed which doubled as an altar. This must have been a wholly frightening/hilarious experience in the pitch black void that enveloped them. However, some found inspiration in the gloom and in 1990 avant garde musicians Chemical Plant (who?) used it as a recording studio and created the super spooky video with the Cold Store making a cameo below.

The question persists as to why the Cold Store evoked mystery and myth. Perhaps the darkness in such a monolithic structure allowed people to explore sides of their lives which were usually hidden. In skyscraper laden Vauxhall it seems almost unfathomable that such a derelict structure existed until almost the millennium. Perhaps the thrill of being in a structure which shouldn’t be there was an enticement. 

The Brandon Estate

From the archives, the fifth and next to last of our month of best history posts

If you’ve ever been to the back half of Kennington Park, or indeed if you live there, you would have noticed the large towers that constitute the most vertical part of the fascinating 36 acre Brandon Estate in Walworth.  Visionary Architect and Communist Edward Hollamby was the principal designer and most of the work was underway by 1956, with his brief by the LCC to capitalise on the post war enthusiasm generated by the Festival of Britain on the Southbank. 

At the eastern Lorrimore Road end of the Estate, Hollamby tried to preserve the pre war Victorian street pattern and keep the few homes that survived, while filling in the holes with modern three bedroom properties. In Forsyth Gardens he created a new square lined with four story maisonettes with a central garden intended as a ‘revival of Georgian town planning traditions’. 

On the other side of Cook’s Road the Estate took on a more striking and risque modernist form. Napier Tower was at the threshold of the foot friendly shopping precinct and beyond it the signature 18 storey blocks nestled into Kennington Park, and in 1957 they were the tallest the LCC had built. As you walk around the Brandon Estate today you’ll notice that it is a very early example of the ‘mixed use’ development. It provided a range of housing options for different kinds of families at different stages of their lives interspersed with shopping for people who don’t drive. 

If you watched ‘Doctor Who’ from 2005 – 2010, you might recognise the Estate as one of the most iconic locations of those series. The Estate, known as the ‘Powell Estate’ in the show, was home to Rose Tyler (Billie Piper) and her mum. The poor courtyard in front of their flat witnessed a TARDIS crash landing, a cyber ghost invasion, and even the Tenth Doctor’s (David Tennant) regeneration.

The Estate is also home to a beautiful Henry Moore statue which we wrote about in 2020

Necropolis Railway

From the archives, the fourth of our month of best history posts

If you’ve ever spotted this rather grand looking building at 121 Westminster Bridge Road you might have wondered what function it once served. For the first half of the 20th century, dear reader, this was the London Necropolis railway station and has been referred to as ‘the strangest and spookiest railway line in British history’.  

In the first half of the 19th  century London’s population surged from one million to almost 2 1/2 million. Churchyards were running out of space to bury the dead and something had to be done, so a plan was hatched by two enterprising men to purchase land near Woking for an enormous cemetery. The idea was that it was far enough away to prevent the bodies from posing a threat to public health, but close enough to let grieving relatives attend funerals without too much hassle. The icing on the cake being that a Waterloo to Woking line had just opened up. 

As you can imagine, people at Waterloo were none too keen on seeing corpses and mourners whizz by as they sat in their 19th century Starbucks, so a separate train station was built behind Waterloo in what is now Leake St. The building was specially designed for mourners and had private waiting rooms, restaurants, and first to third class services. One could depart with their recently departed in the morning, attend a weepy funeral midday, and be back by teatime.  Talk about Victorian multitasking.

The Original

By the end of the 19th century Waterloo station was expanding and  Necropolis station had to be moved. In 1902 the station found it’s present home and out of respect to the dearly departed the builders wanted to make it as attractive as a funeral director’s office, so few expenses were spared. The line was eventually shifting almost 2000 corpses a year until the line was damaged in WW2, and a decision was made to consign it to history, like the many souls it escorted. 

The railway service proved so popular that it even had it’s own rolling stock. However, the reason for this could actually be that if folks knew they had bought a ticket for a train used to carry dead people they could feel like they’d been, well, ‘stiffed’. 

And if you’re still curious, someone has even found enough time to write a book about our little railway to the other side.

The Great Conjurer of Kennington

From the archives, the third of our month of best history posts

Greater Kennington has always had its share of eccentrics, and a prime Victorian example can be found in magician, humourist and collector Henry Evanion (1832-1905) who lived his entire life in Kennington and Oval. During its dying decades Henry’s family sold sweets and tickets at Vauxhall Gardens, and it was there that he came into contact with mimes, jugglers, clowns and tight rope walkers. Supported by his wife Mary Ann and extended family who ran a sweet shop business at 221 Kennington Rd, he began to develop tricks of illusion and ventriloquism that evolved into a rather elaborate show. Delivered, no less, with a fake French accent. 

As Henry’s act evolved he began to tour the southeast and even performed for the royal family on three occasions, with the gig at Sandringham billed as ‘The Grand Feat of the Globes of  Fire, Fish and Birds’. Henry seriously milked this royal connection and it helped with bookings, but there were long stretches where our local boy had no work. He used this time to furiously research new ways to diversify his act, coming up with tricks such as ‘Vulcan’s Chain’, ‘The Mystic Parrot’ and ‘The Japanese Lady’s Reception’. At the time he was living in what is now Montford Place behind the present day Pilgrim pub. 

Henry’s long suffering and very patient wife would sometimes perform as his assistant (a kind of Victorian Debbie McGee) but she had a proper job running a sweet shop so this didn’t last very long. Henry decided to drag people in the crowd onto the stage to act as assistance, which was made easier by his jokiness and quick wit.  His shows were an assortment of magical effects, illusions, juggling and ventriloquism presented rapidly with trick following trick. Henry was also an avid collector of playbills, posters and items associated with magic and other forms of entertainment.

While working with mystic parrots, setting things on fire, and sawing people in half might sound very glamorous, it isn’t the most lucrative of professions and later in life Henry and Mary Ann fell on hard times. Living in the basement flat at 12 Methley Street, at the end of his life Henry befriended no other than the great Harry Houdini while he was in the UK. Houdini was fascinated and inspired by Henry, and on their first meeting spent almost 24 hours with Henry in Methley St. Houdini ended up purchasing some of Henry’s collection of magical ephemera. The rest of his collection was endowed to the British Museum, and gives us a fascinating insight into late Victorian light entertainment. 

St. Agnes Place, London’s Longest Running Squat

From the archives, the second of our month of best history posts

For a period of over 35 years London’s longest running squat was to be found in our very own beloved Kennington Park. In 1969 Lambeth purchased a beautiful terrace of Victorian properties in St. Agnes Place with the intention of demolishing them to extend the park southwards. As the plans sputtered and the council changed hands the buildings became derelict and occupied by squatters, who over the years made the buildings secure and liveable. 

In 1977 Lambeth made a concerted effort to evict the squatters and a large chunk of the properties were destroyed by the council. However, complete expulsion was successfully resisted by squatters refusing to leave by standing on the rooftops. A large and very high profile High Court battle ensued which garnered national attention. The court and the public were on the side of the squatters, and Lambeth were forced to stop pulling down the buildings. A much smaller but much more high profile terrace of homes survived. The conservative leader of Lambeth council, however, did not survive and was forced to step down.  

In the years that ensued the residents were mostly left to their own devices. They enhanced their autonomous community with a social centre, studios for musicians, a pirate radio station, and a separate Rastafarian temple (it was estimated that 1/3 of the residents were Rastafarian). A place of great religious significance for Rastafari, the great Bob Marley himself visited the temple several times when he was recording in London in the late ‘70’s. And far from being derelict, the residents renovated the flats by means of electricity, re – roofing and running water.

As the years progressed the squat became more well known and with the addition of people from Spain, Brazil and Portugal had a more cosmopolitain vibe. According to residents the community had little crime, folks knew one another, and people helped the most vulnerable residents. However, in 2005 Lambeth got its act together and the squatters were faced with the choice of either leaving or paying 30 years of council tax, so the police arrived to empty St. Agnes Place of it’s 150 strong community. For a couple of years after the building was occupied by a small group of various protestors but they soon acquiesced and the community and buildings were consigned to history. 

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40 Elephants

From the archives, the first of our month of best history posts

Elephant and Castle has always been a haunt of the curious and suspicious type, and in the 19th was the home of several criminal gangs. The most fascinating was an all female crime syndicate who specialised in shoplifting and who existed for over a 100 years, 40 Elephants. A side hustle was blackmail and extortion, as you do.

In the 19th century, the 40 Elephant ladies were able to turn social mores distinctly to their advantage. The same outfits which were designed to conceal a scandalous bare ankle could also be cunningly deployed to conceal frocks, hats and scarves. And as they used their ill-gotten gains to ‘look the part’ in high end joints such as Selfridges, no one really questioned them when they came out of a changing room. They were also able to flout social mores in other ways, by supporting their husbands who were often idling away at home or weren’t quite as clever as the Elephants and ended up in prison. 

Unlike many unruly male gangs, 40 Elephants was a tightly run and neatly organised cell of gangs that operated out of E&C but extended beyond our fair area. Apart from shoplifting, the Elephants undertook daring and ferocious daytime raids which terrified both shopowners and customers. When they were not working clandestinely they would descend en masse on large stores and ransack the place, causing chaos and confusion by entering and leaving through various doors. The Elephants would escape on foot or later by fast cars, and if apprehended wouldn’t think twice about putting up a fight as formidable as any man. 

In the 20th century the most notable ‘Queen’ of the gang was Annie Diamond, below, who was raised in Lambeth Workhouse and was reportedly given the name for a predilection for punching police officers while wearing several diamond rings. She was also known for her ingenuity, for instance the gang never wore the clothes they nicked, but instead bought flashy new threads to minimise detection. While not punching officers, Diamond and her gang threw lavish parties with endless champagne and, in all likelihood, freebies liberated from Harrods. Some would call them entrepreneurs in a time when women had few options, others would call them criminals who frightened people. Either way, 40 Elephants knew how to take care of themselves. 

If you want to find out more about 40 Elephants, a very interesting YouTube clip can be found here. If that hasn’t calmed you down there is even a very posh bar called 40 Elephants in, believe it or not, Great Scotland Yard. 

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Ken Artspace

In the midst of the Kennington Cross triangle nestles a quiet gallery that until last week the Runoff had never visited. Ken Artspace is run by artists Agalis and Rob, who live upstairs and decided to create a gallery space on the ground floor when the property beneath them became available. In the 1960’s the space was inhabited by a grocery/pet shop with a sign that read ‘Mixed Marvels’ at the upper level and this inspired the artistic duo to curate a show themed on the sign. 

Ken Artspace’s most recent exhibit is named after the aforementioned sign and features eight established artists, most of whom have had a solo show at  Artspace, working on small canvases. Microbial beings, cellular shapes, and dreamy Swedish landscapes fill the room as well as more figurative mixed media works about travel. A stand out for us was Jeffrey Dennis’s paintings inspired by 1970’s catalogues of home furnishings. We particularly enjoyed the series ‘Boxhead’ by London artist Jane Gifford, below, as it reminds us of the way that most of PR team feel the morning after the Runoff Christmas party at the Tommyfield pub. 

If this exhibit doesn’t tickle your artistic  fancy your artistic collarbone you might want to follow them on the socials as they have an intriguing mix of occasional pop up exhibitions and little events. The creative installations in the window also provide visual relief on a little street punctuated by a dry cleaner, a chippie, and a defunct Chinese joint. And of course, popping in by no means obliges to you buy anything or is even a statement that you’re an art fan.   Happy viewing! 

Mixed Marvels is exhibiting now until 22 December. The gallery is open Thursday to Saturday and like all tasty morsels in life, is totally free. 

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The Casual Ward of Kennington

On a recent meander down Wincott Street in north Kennington we noticed an unusual Victorian building looking not unlike a prison, which prompted us to pull out (nerd alert!) an old Ordnance Survey map. This building was constructed to be a ‘casual ward’, or a very temporary home for homeless people passing through our manor. 

Before 1930 terminally homeless people were a not uncommon site in Greater Kennington. Casual wards were constructed close to workhouses, and we have written about the Lambeth workhouse before, which is around the corner from the casual ward and was once the home of Charlie Chaplin. While workhouses were places for local people (like the Chaplin family) to live while they got back on their feet and perhaps learned a trade, casual wards were intended for the totally destitute of no fixed address to stay for one night, so no one was committed to their help. 

Conditions in our Lambeth casual ward were pretty terrible and people had to work extremely hard for a night in conditions barely better than the street from where they came.  As their clothes were being fumigated, the inmates bathed collectively by gender and were then put to work. It is debateable as to what this work actually entailed, but was something like potato peeling for the frail or back breaking splitting of stones for the more able bodied. Folks didn’t even get to partake in the potatoes they were peeling, as dinner in the casual ward consisted of a kind of gruel made of dried oats, making the Lambeth Workhouse look comfortable by comparison. 

To gain insight for his seminal work ‘Down and Out in London and Paris’, George Orwell visited casual wards very similar to the one that remains in Kennington today, and specific excerpts from the book can be found here. These remnants of social history are evaporating in the mind boggling dynamic changes we are encountering in Greater Kennington (Nine Elms being a prime example). However, with a nose around our patch you might make some discoveries yourselves if you’re clever and observant. And of course you are, as you’re reading this. 

If rock splitting or potato peeling is a specific fetish of yours then you’re in luck. Casual wards, or ‘spikes’ as they were colloquially known, have their own Spike Heritage Centre in Guildford! Probably not the most cheery day out, but you can twin it with a local pub or a twirl around the Surrey Hills.