Category Archives: history

The children of Walnut Tree Place

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A picture tells a thousand words #1

If you’re a regular reader then you’ll know that we love old photos of Greater Kennington. We have unearthed three very different photos and over the next three days we will take on little journeys to let you know what they tell us about our community. 

These lovely kiddos were residents of former Walnut Tree Place and the photo was taken in the summer of 1921. If you look closely you can see blackout boards on some of the windows (although obsolete after WW1 ended in 1918). These homes were built during the first half of the 19th century mostly to house the families of people who worked in factories along the Thames. 

Poor housing conditions became a pressing issue after WW1 and these homes were torn down by London County Council not long after this picture was taken. Between 1928 and 1934 the homes were replaced by what is now the China Walk Estate on the south side of Lambeth Road. The buildings were named after renowned China manufacturers. Walnut Tree Place has changed quite a bit in the past 99 years.

That funny house in Kennington Park

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You have doubtlessly walked or run by these little brick cottages in Kennington Park a million times, but have you ever stopped to wonder what it is or how it ended up there? Well, dear reader, consider yourselves to be demystified. 

The first clue to our mystery is the inscription ‘Model Houses for Families Erected by HRH Prince Albert’ on the side that faces the street. We doubt that Prince Albert himself took off his ermine lined gloves to build the edifice but with the Prince as patron, it was erected by the ‘Society for Improving the Conditions of the Labouring Classes’ for the Great Exhibition in 1851. The cottage was located outside of the exhibition grounds in Hyde Park and entry was free, unlike the Exhibition itself. After the Exhibition closed, the cottages were moved to our sanctified patch of green and became a minor Victorian tourist attraction.

The model cottages were designed to house four families, with two flats on each level. It was envisioned that the cottages would provide suitable accommodation for people from “the class of mechanical and manufacturing operatives who usually reside in towns or in their immediate vicinity”. Each family was designated a living room, kitchen/scullery, three bedrooms and a toilet – but no bathroom, as was still generally the case in houses built at the time.  What we see in our park was a protoype, and it’s unknown whether any were actually executed. 

Since 2003 the cottages have been inhabited by the wonderful charity ‘Trees for Cities’ so it isn’t open to the public.  However, have a spin around it and contemplate that this one little building was meant to house at least 16 people. It makes you appreciate the era we’re in.    

From workshops to squatters – a social history of the Pullens estate

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If you live in Walworth, or just walk through it, you’ve probably noticed a very fine example of Victorian tenement style dwellings in Penton Place. These are the remaining buildings of the Pullens estate. They have a very curious history, boys and girls, and we’re going to tell you about their history of workmen and squatters rights. 

The Pullens estate was made of 684 almost identical one bedroom dwellings with 106 workshops behind (in Clements, Pecock and Illfie Yards, which remain). This was an early version of a live/work space as most of the people worked in the workshops and cobbled streets behind the buildings.  This contrasts with the later Peabody dwellings which just focused on housing families. While the dwellings proved wildly popular, not a great deal is known about the workshops.  

Zoom ahead to the 1977 and, in the eyes of Southwark, the estate was in serious decline and they wanted it demolished. After a high court battle half of the estate was demolished and half remained. The battle emboldened the residents, who formed a tight knit community in order to fend off future threats. To combat this, Southwark decided to stop letting out properties as they became vacant. With the support of the Tenants Association, the properties were given over to squatters who acted as caretakers. During two drawn out legal procedures in the 1980’s over threatened evictions, public interest in the plight of the squatters grew and it gained national attention. 

By 1986 Southwark had enough, and on 10 June the bailiffs moved in to evict the squatters. The residents were prepared, and many barricaded their homes against forced entry. 26 people were evicted, but as the bailiffs did not understand the unique layouts of the buildings, many just shifted their belongings and moved back in again. This became known at the ‘Battle of the Pullens’. Negotiations followed afterwards which led to the squatters being awarded caretakers rights and plans to demolish the rest of the estate were abandoned. The association were also responsible for turning the site of a demolished building into a park. It is now Pullen’s Gardens and a lovely place for a spot of lunch. 

A celebration of Kennington pubs

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Do you remember a halcyon time when we could go to a place and have a drink with people we didn’t live with? Well those days will be upon us again in some kind of fashion on 4 July. Some of these pubs are gone forever, some others rebuilt, and few looking amazingly familiar. We could stare at the pictures all day, and enjoy….

The Victorian Elephant and Castle pub in Vauxhall, 1970. Same building, but now ‘Starbucks’.
The King’s Arms pub, Chester Way and Kennington Lane, 1880. Destroyed in WW2, rebuilt 1946.
The Horns Tavern, Kennington Road and Kennington Park Road., 1910. A local institution damaged in WW2 and never really recovered. That and a dislike of Victorian architecture meant its demise in 1965. Now JobCentre Plus and Nisa Foods.
The Roebuck pub, 1972. Still very much there and known as The Dog House.
The Cricketers pub in the Oval standing proudly on game day, 1957. Closed for aeons, but the building is still there.

The Tankard pub, Kennington Road, 1880. Altered through time, but looking amazingly familiar.
The Vauxhall Tavern, 1950. The RVT had shops on either side of it and a thriving community behind until cleared for Spring Gardens in the late 1960’s.
The Prince of Wales, Cleaver Square, 1973. The only thing different is the cars (and the house prices).

Moore for the people

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Did you know there’s a Henry Moore sculpture in Kennington Park? You did? Well we didn’t, so we’re here to tell you moore about it.

The sculpture is called ‘Two Piece Reclining Figure #3′ and it isn’t actually in Kennington Park, but rather nests peacefully in the Brandon Estate (the tall buildings to the back of the park). It is one of five that were cast by Moore, probably in 1961. It was purchased in 1962 by Southwark under a scheme to place artworks in post war estates called ‘The Abercrombie Plan’. The plan was surprisingly modern in hindsight; acknowledging that the psychological perception of a place isn’t just down to basic amenities, but also creative detail. We wrote about other works of art purchased by the plan a few months ago. 

For those of you not familiar with Henry Moore, he is best known for his semi abstract bronze and marble works, usually depicting women at rest. He was from Yorkshire, and it is speculated that his figures were influenced by the rolling hills of his birthplace. To us, ‘#3’ appears to be influenced by the female sculptures of the Elgin marbles, but who are we to put ideas in your head. A well known Socialist, Moore believed that art was to be enjoyed by the masses and he must have been very proud that this casting of ‘#3’ can be seen by everyone on the Estate. 

Sadly a number of pieces of public art have been stolen and in 2012 Southwark council had to take some quite expensive measures to prevent our Moore from the same sad fate. The residents of Brandon Estate also deserve credit. A bit of free culture while the museums are shut, and It’s a perfect place for a serene picnic without the worry of getting hit on the head with a non socially distanced football. 

From Russia with love

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We here at the Runoff are an absolute minefield of vaguely interesting trivia, but some of it happens to be fascinating indeed.  Did you know that the Russian word for a major rail station is ‘Vokzal’. Remind you of anything? Here’s a clue…think of a lot of dazed clubbers, bus fumes, and a ski ramp. 

Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens (and if you haven’t heard of it, there have been whole books written about it) was one of several  pleasure gardens in London which were enjoyed by the masses until they fizzled out in the mid 19th century. The activities at Vauxhall included fireworks, balloon rides, concerts, and candlelit walks. Vauxhall was hugely influential on the continent and its attractions replicated many times over. Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen was originally called ‘Tivoli and Vauxhall’, in fact. 

The grounds of Pavlovsk Palace near St. Petersburg were converted into pleasure gardens in the 1840’s and called ‘Vokzal’ as a nod to its inspiration in London. The first railway in Russia served the Imperial family and ran between St. Petersburg and the palace itself. When the railway was opened to the public the station was emblazoned with the word ‘Vokzal’. The purpose of this was to indicate the terminus of the train, but the station itself became known as ‘Vokzal’ and this eventually became  the generic term for all rail termini in Russia. 

There are plenty of interesting theories about  how the Vokzal name stuck, including an incorrect one from The Independent about a visiting Russian delegation.  (the Russian railway predates Vauxhall station by a year). Today the name seems to crop up quite a bit across the old USSR, from restaurants to clothing stores…Это увлекательно или как?

The last great epidemic of Greater Kennington

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History has an unusual system of circularity, and The Event that has engulfed the world is in many respects very similar to one experienced in early Victorian Greater Kennington. So bring those sparklingly clean hands forward boys and girls, as we are going to tell you about another misunderstood epidemic borne out of a need for greater hygiene. 

In the first half of the nineteenth century Lambeth’s waterfront was the industrial hub of London, with factories  such Royal Doulton lining the waterfront between Black Prince Road and Spring Gardens and disgorging pollutants into the air and water. The area behind the factories was populated primary by migrants from the countryside and a famine stricken Ireland (and now ironically populated by multizillion pound flats, but moving on..) who struggled for survival and lacked basic sanitation. As the area was built haphazardly on damp marshland (this was before the embankment of the Thames) there were no standpipes for water and the folks had no choice but to obtain their drinking water directly from the Thames. And we’ll leave it up to you to imagine what kinds of matter were deposited in the river at the time.

The Thames was the source of contagion when cholera struck Lambeth in October, 1848, resulting in the death of almost 2000 local men, women and children. At the time it was believed that cholera was transmitted through the air in foul smells, and foul smells were abundant in this industrial wasteland. Our patch of Lambeth was one of the first places studied by pioneering epidemiologist John Snow (no, not that one) who, after seeing people dipping pails into the river for drinking water, began his path to discovering that cholera was a water borne illness. Proof that science can prevail in times of darkness. 

A headstone of the time of cholera

Of the people who perished, many were buried in unmarked graves in the cemetery of St. Mary’s church (now the Gardening Museum). The graveyard is now Old Paradise Park and is a little gem of solitude behind the high rises. On your daily and now unlimited walk stop to notice the headstones of the many residents of Lambeth who were contemporaries of those 2000 who perished, but who had a more dignified send off.  And in the middle of Paradise Gardens you’ll encounter a solitary standpipe, which acts as a fitting monument to those buried beneath it. 

Richard Cuming, the most curious man in Kennington

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In the 55 years that have elapsed since the middle of March, we’ve starting undertaking socially distanced walks around Greater Kennington. It was during one of these walks that we became more familiar with a true Kennington original and maybe the progenitor of all the Kennington eccentrics who have come after him; Richard Cuming.

Richard Cuming Kennington

Richard was raised in Walworth Road (intersection of Manor Place, now a McDonalds) in 1777. and it was here that his aunt and other family members sparked his curiosity for collecting all things unusual by giving him fossils, old coins, Indian arrowheads, and other ephemera which were easily available at the time, In adulthood Richard moved to 63 Kennington Road (below) and his collection grew to include items as varied as stuffed animals, ceramics, harpoons, footwear, and even early sunglasses.  Unlike many gentlemen collectors of his era, Richard never actually left the UK but was given these items or picked them up in markets around London.

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Richard’s collection in Kennington Road eventually grew to include over 25,000 objects and he was happy to show off his curiosities to as many people a possible. The home was a haven for collectors, scientists, historians, and  any passing Kenningtonian who shared his passion for all things unusual. The passion was passed on to his son Henry who, after his father’s death in 1870, moved the collection in a more populist direction by collecting objects that revealed the ordinary lives of south Londoners  from rail tickets to cheap toys and good luck charms

 

When Henry Cuming died in 1902 he bequeathed the collection to what was to become the London Borough of Southwark with the proviso that the collection be exhibited ‘in a suitable and spacious gallery or apartments in connection with Newington Public Library’. This wish was realised when the Cuming Museum was opened in Walworth Road in 1906. With a few additions from other sources the museum became very popular, a sort of Welcome Collection south of the river. The museum thrived until 2013 when the town hall complex was engulfed in flames and the building gutted.

Luckily, 98% of Richard and Henry’s collection survived the great fire and it is in storage until Southwark figures out what to do with it. But fear not, dear reader, as the collection very much lives on online and its quirky highlights can be found here. Now wash those hands!

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A Little History of 20th Century Architecture in Our Realm, Part 1

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Ok boys and girls, move your chairs up. We’re about to tell about the recent history of the Duchy of Cornwall Estate in two petite, pop up pieces. The first covers the development of the area in Kennington and Vauxhall from 1890 to 1914; the second covers the era between the wars. For the unaware, the Duchy is one of the titles of the Prince of Wales, which is why you can see his heraldic badge popping up around the area. We’ve included a few pics of what we are writing about the bottom, and we have more on our Instagram page.

The modern history of the Duchy Estate commenced in the 1890’s when many middle class folk were abandoning our area. Kennington had not escaped the exodus of people to greener and cleaner areas in the suburbs, and most of the housing stock had become very run down. The Duchy was concerned about the conditions in which many of our predecessors lived, and a start was made in 1893 to create modern, cleaner tenements. These first edifices were social experiments and still very much exist in Chester Way, the Duchy Arms end of Courtney St, bits of Newburn St, and Kennington Lane among other places.

In 1909, following a tour of housing estates in Germany, Stanley Adshead proposed further development of the Estate as more land became available. His idea was to draw middle class people back to our area, but the Duchy resisted as it felt it had a much more noble obligation to re-house existing tenants, mostly the old and working poor who were living in very substandard conditions. What they agreed on and what we still see today reflect a compromise. The houses on Denny Street (where you can see the German gabled influence of Ashtead’s travels), Cardigan St, and the bottom of Courtney Street were then created not for the destitute, but for older people and working families who deserved something better. A new and revolutionary kind of tenement was also erected, now called Woodstock Court, set around a central courtyard.

In designing some of the homes of this period, Ashtead was influenced by the Georgian houses in Kennington Road, which by that time were well over 100 years old. As an urban neighbourhood he appreciated the scale and feel of being in a town, as opposed to the rustic terraces inspired by Victorians like William Morris, and his small squares remain an influence. One of his last projects was St. Anselm’s Church in Kennington Cross. Work was commenced and then paused in 1914 due to the war, not to be resumed until 1933. You can see the pause in the brickwork about 16 feet on the side of the building. And this, reader, is where our story itself pauses.

In our next atom of archival architecture we will move through the first world war and up to the second, and focus on the estates in Oval and further into Vauxhall.

If you would like some more insight into the Duchy of Cornwall Estate check out this documentary on YouTube. If you have a poor attention span like us scroll to minute 41 where they talk about Kennington, Vauxhall and Oval. You might even see your own home!

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