Baker100 - Waterloo station Station opened: Monday 8th August 1898 Distance from previous station: 500m (beneath the River Thames) You are now entering: the London borough of Lambeth Named after: That big battle in 1815 where we whopped the French. No connection whatsoever to Abba. Change here for: Waterloo & City line (arrived 1898), Northern line (arrived 1926), Jubilee line (arrived 1999) and mainline services (arrived 1848) Thrilling fact: Waterloo station has 24 escalators, more than any other underground station. Bakerloo line platforms: sort-of ordinary tiling, but with medieval-looking mosaic panels spaced out close to most of the exits Nearest baker: There are plenty of food outlets on the concourse of Waterloo mainline station which pretend to be bakers. Upper Crust promise 'delicious baguettes baked all day long', Delice de France reheat croissants to order, and Krispy Kreme churn out something almost, but not quite, like a genuine doughnut. There's even a kiosk called 'Daily Bread', except that they only serve sandwiches, not still-warm cottage bloomers. Most disappointing. Nearest loo: Opposite mainline platform 18, except that I wasn't paying 20p to spend a penny!
There are several ways to walk the (very) short distance between Charing Cross and Embankment tube stations. You can follow the Bakerloo line and stroll down Northumberland Avenue, once home to a most grand Turkish Baths, now flanked by grim Government offices. You can follow the Northern line down narrow Villiers Street, lined with endless eateries and a monstrous block of accountants. You can walk through Charing Cross station itself, taking the raised walkway south through a piddling little tourist market. Or you can take the route I took, inbetween the lot of them, along quaint quiet Craven Street. Here, tucked away out of sight from most passing tourists, I stopped off to visit an unique slice of Americana...
I SPY LONDON the definitive DG guide to London's sights-worth-seeing Part 6:Benjamin Franklin House
Location: 36 Craven Street, WC2N 5NF [map] Open: 10am - 5pm (Wednesday - Sunday) Admission: £8 5-word summary: American diplomat's dramatic walk-through experience Website:www.benjaminfranklinhouse.org Time to set aside: an hour
I'd never paid cash before to spend time shut away alone in a private house with a histrionic woman. Neither was that my plan when I went to visit one of London's newest tourist attractions, opened in January this year on the 300th anniversary of its most famous resident's birth. But that's how things turned out.
You probably think of Benjamin Franklin as a quintessential American, battling for freedom against the British and signing his name at the bottom of the Declaration of Independence. But what's far less well known is that Franklin spent more than fifteen years of his life living in London. He spent a year in his late teens learning the printing trade (residing in Little Britain, no less) before returning home to set up the Pennsylvania Gazette. In 1757 he came back to London as a fifty-year-old international diplomat, staying considerably longer and taking up lodgings with the Stevenson family in a terraced townhouse in Craven Street [photo].
I found the door to 36 Craven Street without too much difficulty, but had far more trouble trying to work out how to pay to get in. A sign on the iron railings directed me round the corner to Craven Passage (ooh, atmosphericarchedtunnel) beneath Charing Cross station where I eventually found the New Players Theatre. A girl behind the counter in the musty box office cheerily sold me an entrance ticket before revealing that I was the only person signed up for the 1pm tour. A tour earlier that morning had been sold out, she assured me, but her tally chart suggested business had been very slow since. Still, there was no point in complaining, a solo tour would clearly be the ultimate in heritage value for money. I was led back to Franklin's terraced house in Craven Street, ushered into the creaking hallway and taken down to the basement. Here I sat alone and watched a short film about Franklin's London life, edited with a clear nod to any parties of American tourists who might have been visiting. But they weren't, it was just me.
And then Polly made a dramatic entrance. Polly was the daughter of Ben Franklin's London landlady - and this was definitely either her or a very convincing actress in a big powdered wig. With the distant ringing of a bell from upstairs she bade me follow her up to the drawing room where virtual tea was being served. A highly ingenious interactive audio-visual presentation was underway, with the wood-panelled walls of each room being used to screen a different tableau from Franklin's London biography. Voices and period music played over hidden speakers, with Polly narrating her part of the story to perfection during each narrative pause, live to the audience. Which was just me. Polly's professionalism shone through as she delivered a bravura performance without ever looking me directly in the eye, or blushing all red and embarrassed at being shut in the same room with one single male vistor. I couldn't help but be impressed as she led me through the house with as much energy as she would a party of 12, and Franklin's story unfolded from a very human angle.
I don't think I'd previously fully appreciated the broad diversity of Franklin's genius. Not content with being a newspaper baron and civic-minded statesman, Ben was also a talented scientist. His particular interest was the new-fangled study of electricity, including that legendary kite-flying lightning experiment and a lot of playing around with coils and magnets. He kept busy during his voyages across the Atlantic by taking readings which established the path of the Gulf Stream. And in the tiny rear study upstairs at Craven Street he entertained the great thinkers of his day andinvented bifocals. Here Polly's emotional parting scene recalled the day in March 1775 when ambassador Ben, disgraced in British eyes as a whistleblower, finally packed his bags and returned to revolutionary America. The special relationship he established between our two countries remains today (twat presidents notwithstanding). And Franklin's London life has been, I think, beautifully remembered here at Craven Street in unique and dramatic fashion. If you don't mind risking forming another minimalist audience, I know Polly would be delighted to show you round.
Baker100 - Embankment station Hang on, isn't this station called Charing Cross? It used to be when it opened, but since 1974 it's been called Embankment. I warned you yesterday that this was complicated. Station opened: Monday 30th May 1870 Change here for: District and Circle lines Quick history: The District line got here first, running alongside a sewer inside the newly-constructed Victoria Embankment. The Bakerloo and Northern lines burrow underneath. Distance from previous station: 370m That's not far! No, Charing Cross to Embankment is one of the shortest inter-station journeys on the entire tube network. And the Northern line journey between these stations is 100m shorter still! Surely it would be quicker to walk? You'd think so, wouldn't you? So I did an experiment to find out. I timed how long it took me to get from the Trafalgar Square entrance [photo] to the Embankment exit [photo] by train, and then timed how long it took me to walk back again. First, by tube. It took a minute to descend to the foot of the escalator, another to get to the platform, a third to wait for a train, a fourth to ride to Embankment, a fifth to mount the first escalator and a sixth to climb the final escalator and exit. My walk back up Northumberland Avenue took only four minutes and 45 seconds. So yes, it's definitely quicker to walk. Station layout: Fairly simple, all things considered - see 3D cross-section here Bakerloo platforms: white tiles, decorated with fluttering red, blue and brown ticker tape Thrilling fact: Immediately before World War Two giant steel floodgates were built here (and at Waterloo) to prevent innundation by the Thames should a German bomb ever penetrate the tunnel beneath the river. I've been here before: The construction of the Victoria Embankment(August 2005)
Baker100 walk: Piccadilly Circus to Trafalgar Square
The Bakerloo line runs beneath Haymarket on its way to Trafalgar Square. I think the underground train has the right idea - it's not missing much above the surface. There's no longer a great deal of visual interest down this once historic street, just a few tourist tat shops, grim restaurants, archaic offices, the Sports Cafe and a seen-better-days cinema. But a handful of buildings still really stand out.
With its six tall Classical columns, the Theatre Royal is probably the most impressive building in the street. The present building was designed by (who else?) John Nash in 1820, although the original theatre dates back a century earlier. HerMajesty'sTheatre across the road is even older, and has changed name (and gender) five times since 1705 to match with the reigning monarch. Early in its history, as the King's Theatre, it became renowned as the home of London opera under the musical directorship of George Frideric Handel (yes, really, him). The current building, opened in 1897, has a tradition of hosting long running musicals, including Chu Chin Chow(opened 1916, for 2238 performances), Fiddler On The Roof(opened 1967, for 2030 performances) and The Phantom Of The Opera(opened 1986, now over 7500 performances, and no sign of giving up the ghost). Perhaps most memorably of all, for some, Tommy Cooper suffered a fatal heart attack live on ITV whilst performing on stage here in 1984.
On the corner with Pall Mall stands New Zealand House, the official presence of the Kiwi government in the UK. The building is a 15-storey early-1960s tower block, which you might therefore expect to be a concrete monstrosity but actually it's nothing of the sort. Architect Robert Matthew hoped to create a 'romantic silhouette' on London's skyline and successfully created an elegant tower, now Grade II listed. The view's not quite so impressive at ground level, however, and the multilayered glass effect is now somewhat ruined by the need to hang billowing curtains in every window. New Zealand timbers were used for some of the interior decor, and there's a mighty tall Maori totem pole erected in the atrium. Post-war planners were particularly worried by the potential security risk created by the view from the top floor penthouse, and they were right to be. I've been right up to the outdoor roof terrace as part of London Open House weekend a few years ago (oooh, spectacular), and I'm sure if I'd taken a pair of binoculars I could have seen right into the gardens of Buckingham Palace. It's a great pity that the roof is so rarely open to the public. [photos & history here]
From here it's a short walk along either Pall Mall (past the National Gallery's carbuncle extension) or Cockspur Street (past the Scottish tourist office) to the edge of Trafalgar Square [photos]. And you may remember I wrote about Trafalgar Square in enormous detail last October, so I have no intention of repeating myself here. Onward to the station...
Baker100 - Trafalgar Square station Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906 Distance from previous station: 500m Hang on, there isn't a tube station called Trafalgar Square: No, not any more. But there used to be when the Bakerloo line opened. Station renamed Charing Cross: Sunday 4th August 1974 Incredibly complicated 'renaming' history of this and neighbouring stations: I've written about this in some depth before, or read about it all here Brief summary of the above: Trafalgar Square and Strand stations were combined to create Charing Cross station in readiness for the completion of the Jubilee line. Subterranean station cross-section here. Change here for: Northern line, but only if you want a very long walk because the two halves of the station really aren't very close together at all. Line maps on board Bakerloo line trains don't show this station as an interchange, recommending that you change at Embankment instead. Exit: You emerge from the ticket hall directly into the southeast corner of Trafalgar Square [photo]. It's about as convenient as any tube station gets. Bakerloo line platforms: A 1970s brown vinyl makeover, featuring murals inspired by Trafalgar Square and the National Portrait Gallery above. The panels were designed with integral litter bins, but the threat of terrorism means that these are now inelegantly blocked. Cardinal Wolsey now has a featureless white rectangle across his chest, for example [photo] I've been here before:All about Trafalgar Square(October 2005)
Very little of the layout of central London was ever consciously planned - most of it just evolved. RegentStreet, underneath which the Bakerloo line runs, is a rare exception. Along with Portland Place (see yesterday) this was part of the processional route carved through the West End by John Nash for the benefit of the Prince Regent. How often the prince rode this way is not recorded, but Nash's broad boulevard soon became a fashionable magnet for the well-to-do of Georgian London. The very finest section of the road was the sweeping curve to the south - the Quadrant - whose shadowy colonnades were later removed to stop prostitutes gathering there after dark. Initially the two major road junctions at either end were called "Regent's Circus North" and "Regent's Circus South", but the need for clarity following the introduction of omnibus services caused conductors to rename them "Oxford Circus" and "Piccadilly Circus", and so they remain today. None of Nash's grand terraces still stand - the individual shops were too small for modern business needs so they were all demolished between 1902 and 1927. The replacement façades do still look pretty damned impressive, however [photo], and the street continues to take its heritage very seriously. Perhaps that's not surprising when the Crown is your landlord.
Walk down Regent Street today and what strikes you, apart from the grandeur, is the huge amount of scaffolding on show. In some parts of the street the majority of buildings appear to be boarded up, shielded behind poles and sheeting, while major reconstruction work takes place behind. Modern businesses have different needs to old, and some degree of rebuilding and inconvenience is needed while new retail outlets move in. It's all an illusion, though. The façades may stay intact but everything behind gets gutted - as you can see in this photo taken from Swallow Street, round the back of the main Regent Street curve. When the cranes finally move out and the new businesses and luxury penthouses move in, only a historical veneer will remain. So much of London's history, alas, is but skin deep.
Many of Regent Street's shops are world famous. Hamleys, for example, has to be the favourite destination for generations of toy-seeking children. It gets a bit crowded in there at weekends and school holidays, but you'll be glad to know that they still demonstrate pocket-money bubble-blowing machines and mini looping aeroplanes on the ground floor. Another traditional favourite is Liberty, its Tudor building constructed in 1924 from the timbers of two ships: HMS Impregnable and HMS Hindustan. Aquascutum and Austin Reed are also Regent Street staples, and there's a distinctly upmarket flavour to many of the other retailers here. Maybe that's why I've never properly appreciated this street - it's always seemed to be pitched somewhere over my head, more about excessive style than any sense of value. Not even the new AppleStore has encouraged me to change my mind. One recent Regent Street casualty was department store Dickins & Jones, closed for business in January after more than two centuries of trading. I hate to think who'll move in and replace it. After all, who now remembers Swan & Edgar at the foot of the street, closed in 1982 and now ignominiously replaced by a Virgin Megastore?
But one retail legend shows no sign of fading away. As long as I can remember there's been a bloke standing in Regent Street with a big arrowed sign saying GOLF SALE. I don't think it's been the same bloke every time, and the sign itself has also evolved (was yellow on black, now black on fluorescent yellow), but the campaign continues. Westminster Council tried to ban this board-borne advert a few years ago, but discovered that the relevant legislation didn't seem to extend to pavements and so the board remains. It's multiplied as well, with several feeder boards pointing towards the main sign pointing down Maddox Street. This isn't a sidestreet you'd otherwise choose to walk along, but on this occasion I thought I'd follow the pointing arrow to see what was there - something I've studiously avoided in the past (not least because I am so very definitely not a golfer). And there, just beyond the burger restaurant and the slightly rundown tanning salon, was the notorious Golf Sale. I was expecting more, perhaps, not just an ordinary shop with an array of golf bags and clubs lined up on the pavement. The big yellow sign at Oxford Circus may have read 'Walk In', but it seemed that nobody had. Two sales assistants stood chatting close to the door in a shop packed with golf equipment but no customers. I would have gone in, but I always feel very uncomfortable in any shop where the staff outnumber the visitors so I walked swiftly past and continued on my way. Even world renowned marketing campaigns, it seems, don't always deliver successful results.
Baker100 - Piccadilly Circus station Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906 Distance from previous station: 1km Quick history: Two brand new underground lines met beneath Piccadilly Circus in 1906 - the Baker Street & Waterloo and the Great Northern, Piccadilly & Brompton. The original station building was located on the corner of Coventry Street and Haymarket. As passenger numbers grew, a splendid new circular ticket hall was constructed beneath Eros, opening in 1928 (see cutaway diagram here). Long history: Is this long enough for you? Three things I found outside the station: half the tourists in the western world all jostling for position trying to take photographs of each other in front of Eros [photo]; two highly embarrassed men in big round pumpkin-shaped hats giving away free Mentos mints; a thin blue police telephone box (no longer functional) Change here for: Piccadilly line Bakerloo platforms: tiled with primary-coloured red, blue and greenery Thrilling fact: Because the Bakerloo platforms are slightly staggered, you can stand at the northern end of the northbound platform and watch trains curving into the southbound platform. Old photo here. Nearest baker: I don't know if it counts, but the very first Lyons Teashop opened a few doors up Piccadilly. Now a British Airways Travel Shop. Nearest loo: The subways around the ticket hall contain some pretty robust public conveniences. Many decades ago they'd no doubt have been frequented by those seeking Dilly Boys on the meatrack. Savvy? I've been here before:Piccadilly month(August 2004)
And now the Bakerloo heads south, beneath Portland Place. This is one of the most elegant streets in London, although it would have been even grander had architect John Nash had his way. He planned a processional thoroughfare for the Prince Regent, leading from Carlton House on the Mall to the prince's summer villa in Regent's Park. It was to be a straight line, but land battles with Sir James Langham and the residents of Cavendish Square forced part of the road further east than Nash would have liked, creating a distinctly imperfect kink around Langham Place (full history here). But the road remains far broader than most, like a Georgian dual carriageway, and is always a impressive place for a quiet stroll. Here are some of the architectural (and other) treats to be seen down Portland Place:
• Park Crescent: One of Nash's first crescents[photo], originally planned as a full circle (or circus). The purity of its white stone colonnades still makes me think that Mary Poppins is about to fly in at any minute.
• Several statues down the 'central reservation': A real mixed bag, including Joseph Lister (who pioneered the use of antiseptics in surgery - pictured), SirGeorge Stuart White (Boer War commander) and QuintinHogg (founder of the first polytechnic).
• RIBA: The headquarters of the Royal Institute of British Architects is a sheer stark slab of 30s brutalism [photo]. On the pavement outside there's usually a poignant one-woman protest aimed directly across the road at the Chinese Embassy (read more here).
• Lots of scientific associations: The largest of these is the Institute of Physics, but there's also the Royal College of Radiologists, the Institute of Chemical Engineers and my personal favourite, the Anaesthaesia Heritage Centre. No, really.
• BBC Broadcasting House: About which I wrote in depth when I went for a tour last year. The interior of the building is still being renovated, but it looks like they've pretty much finished the exterior at last. The Bakerloo line passes very nearly underneath the building, which used to cause all sorts of sound problems when certain radio programmes were being recorded, but the latest design features heavy soundproofing throughout. There's an outstanding history of the site here, of the original building here and of the new development here.
• The Langham Hotel: London's first purpose-built grand luxury hotel, originally with 600 rooms (now 427). Famous regular visitors included Oscar Wilde, Mark Twain, Noel Coward, Antonin Dvorak and Haile Selassie. 100 years ago a room cost 9 shillings (45p) a night - today that's merely an insulting tip. Full historical trivia here.
• All Souls, Langham Place: John Nash's signature circular church, with the famous lemon-squeezer roof and spire [photo]. Inside there's perhaps more a feeling of theatre than temple, but that's perfectly in keeping with this modern church's vibrant outreach ministry. How many other churches allow you to download their last four weeks' sermons?
Baker100 - Oxford Circus station Station opened: Monday 30th July 1900 Distance from previous station: 900m Exit: The old Baker Street & Waterloo Railway station, designed by Leslie Green, on the corner of Oxford Street and Argyll Street Entrance: steps down from the four corners of Oxford Circus, into the new ticket hall built for the opening of the Victoria line in 1969 Surroundings:northwest - H&M (smiley Swedish clothing); southwest - United Colors of Benetton (purveyor of ultra-matched separates); southwest - Shelly's Shoes (sold-out Carnaby Street bootseller); northeast - Niketown (corporate sportswear temple) Station layout: Oxford Circus station is bloody complicated beneath the surface, with long winding tunnels everywhere which seem to take forever to walk down. I could try describing the layout, but I'd rather guide you towards these fine below-surface plans and 3Dcutaways. Tell me you're not impressed. Station history: short version here, extremely detailed pdf version here Change here for: Victoria line (a very easy same-level interchange) and Central line Bakerloo platforms: tiled with a green and white maze mosaic Thrilling fact: Smoking on tube trains and underground stations was only banned in 1985 after ascaryfire at Oxford Circus station trapped 1000 late-night commuters in smoke-filled tunnels. Local character: Where Oxford Street once had Stanley Green, the Protein Man, now it has Paul Howard, the Sinner Winner Man. "Why be a sinner, when you can be a winner?" If you ever risk crossing Regent Street just north of Oxford Circus you'll probably hear Paul's dulcet tones booming out from the traffic island [photo], trying to convert passers-by to the living gospel. "If God's not the boss you're gonna suffer loss." There he stands in his orange anorak (with arctic-fur collar), politely haranguing pedestrians with his streaming megaphone monologue. "If we don't team up with God we never win." There's just a hint of a Deep South guttural aitch whenever he utters the word "je-h-esus" (which is often), but stay and listen too long and you'll realise that a lot of what he has to say is on a recycled loop. "Why be a sinner, when you can be a winner?" Read the b3ta interview with Paul here, download a signed poster here and buy the official t-shirt (honest) here.
And now to walk the entire length of the original Bakerloo line, above ground, to see what's there. It's only three miles from Baker Street to Lambeth North, but there's absolutely tons to see.
Today I'm tracing the tracks from Baker Street to Regent's Park station. Here's an old map showing the geographical route (northeast-ish), which is absolutely nothing like the fantasy route (southeast) depicted on the official London Underground tube map. Whatever today's map may say, the Bakerloo line definitely runs to the north of the Circle line between Edgware Road and Regent's Park, and not to the south.
[I would at this point show you the relevant tiny snippet of the current London Underground tube map, but it's probably best not to for scary legal reasons. And if you're a fan of strange and wonderful tube maps (like the anagram one, the sweary one and the upsidedown one) then you might want to head over to Geoff's map archive and download as many as you can before TfL's humourless solicitors move in on Monday and extinguish the lot].
The first eastward building you meet on leaving Baker Street station is one of the most famous in London - the Planetarium. Its green copper roof is instantly recognisable, as is the small ringed planet perched right on the top of the dome [photo]. As a child I remember reclining on the comfy seats inside the Planetarium and being totally overawed by the astronomical lightshow projected onto the roof above me. I quite fancied going back for another look this year, except that the show has now been dumbed down to a mere ten minutes and entrance is only available as part of a combined ticket with Madame Tussaud's nextdoor. Sorry, but there's no way I'm forking out £22 (yes, £22!) to gawp at a few waxwork celebrities, even if some are supposedly interactive and reveal a bit of greasy flesh. Tragically the owners have decided that the only stars which attract tourists nowadays are of the two-legged kind, so in June the Planetarium in its current form will be closed and transformed into the Auditorium - a new audio-visual show which promises to "get into the heart of celebrity". Sounds absolutely ghastly, but I'm sure the vacuous crowds of tourists who throng the Marylebone Road will lap it up.
From here the underground Bakerloo line skirts the southern edge of Regent's Park. This is one of the largest open spaces in central London, transformed from Tudor hunting lands into elegant parkland by John Nash. He's also responsible for the imposing terraced villas which line the edges of the park [photo], now home to the aspirationally exclusive. I passed several moneyed old couples out taking a stroll through the park, the men gnarled and grimacing, ostentatiously parading their fur-coated wives and pampered dogs. Younger visitors cycled, or jogged, or even scootered, while out on Marylebone Green a semi-serious soccer kickabout was underway. The scenic central lake [photo] is actually part of the old River Tyburn, here visible for the one and only time before plunging beneath the city of Westminster on its way to the Thames. At the moment a carpet of daffodils is pushing bravely through the winter mud, but it won't be long before this lovely park truly springs to life.
Baker100 - Regent's Park station Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906 Distance from previous station: 900m Surroundings: The station entrance is encircled by a large area of trees and gardens which you might expect would be part of Regent's Park, but you'd be wrong. This is Park Square Gardens, a privileged enclave for the exclusive use of (very) local residents. Iron railings and padlocks segregate several acres from public access, and there's even a caretaker's cottage in one corner to ensure that all undesirables are kept at arm's length. No doubt the lawns are covered by Raybans and Riviera-tanned skin in the summer, but give me the common ground to the north any day. Station building: One of relatively few tube stations with no building on the surface [photo]. Entrance is down some steps (past a tramp) through a pair of twin bore green-tiled subways [photo]. Ticket hall: gloomy, narrow and partly wood-panelled Thrilling fact: If you choose to take the stairs rather than the lift, there are 96 steps down to the platforms. Platforms: dark and melancholy with original Edwardian tiling, including the words 'Regent's Park' picked out in brown rectangles. Change here for: Great Portland Street station, which is only 100 metres up the road. Again, you'd never tell by looking at the tube map. Don't change here for: London Zoo (which may be in Regent's Park but it's almost a mile away, and Camden Town station is rather closer). Advance warning of closure: Regent's Park station is closing for a year, starting on June 5th, so that essential maintenance work can take place. Metronet are in charge, so I wouldn't hold out much hope of them leaving all the heritage features intact or even finishing on time. I've been here before: Walking the Regent's Canal(May 2005)
It's exactly 100 years today since London Underground's Bakerloo Line opened, on Saturday 10th March 1906. Only eight stations were ready for traffic at the time, but the tuppenny tickets proved most popular and 37000 passengers packed the trains that day. To celebrate this centenary I'll be taking a virtual journey along the original line, station by station, from Baker Street to Lambeth North. It's not just an interesting underground journey, it's also a damned fine walk above ground, so there'll be plenty to see along the way over the next week. Mind the doors.
At the turn of the 20th century there were three different east-west underground lines through the centre of London (the Metropolitan, District and Central) but no lines travelling north-south. The new Baker Street & Waterloo Railway aimed to change that, allegedly inspired by the desire of certain Westminster gentlemen to reach Lord's more easily to watch the cricket after work. This was one of London's first deep level tubes, burrowing deep beneath London's streets rather than using much cheaper cut and cover methods. Initial construction was slow due to lack of funds, but inspirational American businessman Charles Yerkes stepped in with financial support and provided the impetus to complete the project. And it was an Evening News headline soon after the railway's opening which first nicknamed the line the "Baker-loo", and the name has stuck ever since.
Here's a brief Bakerloo line history (and if you need a map to follow, try here):
1906: The Bakerloo opened between Baker Street and Lambeth North (then called Kennington Road). Tunnels to Elephant & Castle opened in August of the same year. All further extensions were to the northwest. 1907: Extended westward to Marylebone (terminus of the Grand Central Railway) and then Edgware Road (not the Metropolitan station of the same name). 1913: Extended southward to Paddington - following an extremely tight curve which looks very different on a geographically accurate map compared to the usual smoothed-out Harry Beck version. 1915: Extended northwest to Queen's Park, where Bakerloo trains met up with overground trains on the London & North Western Railway. Some Bakerloo trains continued to Willesden Junction and (in 1917) to Watford Junction. 1939: The Stanmore branch of the Metropolitan line transferred to the Bakerloo. 1979: The Stanmore branch switched to the new Jubilee line (I've covered this in enormous detail before, remember...) 1982: Northernmost Bakerloo terminus cut back from Watford Junction to Stonebridge Park. 1984: Trains restored between Stonebridge Park and Harrow & Wealdstone (which is how things stand today).
The Bakerloo's a strange line. It ventures from darkest Southwark to leafy suburbia. Its squat little trains rattle and wheeze through bendy tunnels. Its underground stations remain gloomy and labyrinthine. Its overground stations feel bleak and unloved. But the Bakerloo's still a great little line, nimbly joining several key London locations, and a characterful throwback to how the underground used to be. And it's brown. Even 100 years ago, brown was cutting edge.
Baker100 - Baker Street station Station opened: Saturday 10th January 1863 Bakerloo line platforms: tiled with an ingenious Sherlock Holmes design, constructed from miniature Sherlock Holmes silhouettes [photo]. Change here for: Jubilee line (a very easy same-level interchange), Metropolitan line, Circle line, Hammersmith & City line. You'd be quicker changing here: From here to Waterloo by Bakerloo line takes 10 minutes. From here to Waterloo by Jubilee line takes 9 minutes. Thrilling fact:Baker Street was one of only seven underground stations on the world's first underground line between Paddington and Farringdon. Immediately outside the station: hundreds of tourists buying tacky souvenirs, long queues for sightseeing buses, a statue of the ubiquitous Sherlock Holmes, Transport for London's Lost Property Office (it's amazing what people lose). Nearest baker: Presumably there were once bakeries in this street, but I couldn't find one. There's a small tiled arcade above the station where you can buy pizzas, chocolate bars and nuts. There's a row of touristy gift shops and cafes in front of the station where you can buy a very artificial looking apple danish. But something traditional and baked, like a loaf of bread? Not a chance. Nearest loo: Beneath the pavement, just across the road from the station, are a pair of well-tended public conveniences. I had to pass a sleeping dog to get into the gents, then walk round a tall green pot plant to get to the urinals. The tiles above the splashback were illustrated with colourful cartoon characters, but a Westminster council CCTV watched my every move, to the last drop. I've been here before: Winding your way down on Baker Street(Gerry Rafferty, 1978)
Shoot-out at the Blind Beggar: Wednesday March 9th 1966
Forty years ago tonight one of the East End's most notorious murders took place. Ronnie Kray walked into the Blind Beggar pub on the Whitechapel Road and shot dead gangland rival George Cornell, supposedly for calling him a "big fat poof". Which of course he was, although it was highly inadvisable to mention this out loud. George may have been stupid, but his cold-blooded murder shocked the East End. And you wouldn't guess from looking at the pub today, but the BlindBeggar has quite a history...
Legend tells that the original 'blind beggar' was Henry de Montfort, a medieval nobleman. He was left disfigured following the battle of Evesham in 1265 and reduced to begging on the streets in this part of ye olde Whitechapel. Henry's daughter Bessee was a bit of a looker and soon attracted the attention of many noble suitors, but all were discouraged from marriage by her father's wretched appearance. That is until one gentleman finally had the courage to ask him for Bessee's hand in marriage, upon which Henry revealed that he was in fact heir to the Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort, and handed over a large sum of money to pay for the wedding. That's oneversionofthestory, anyway.
In Pepys' time Whitechapel and Bethnal Green were well-to-do country villages situated in green fields outside the City walls. However, the growth of the capital over subsequent centuries brought great poverty and slum conditions to the area. In 1865 former Methodist minister WilliamBooth arrived here from Nottingham and was shocked by what he saw. He was walking along the Whitechapel Road when he came across a religious open-air meeting taking place outside the Blind Beggar. William stepped up to preach and so impressed the organisers that they invited him to lead their small tent-based mission nearby. From this chance meeting was formed the Salvation Army, and Booth devoted the rest of his life to raising the poor of the East End out of poverty through the power of the gospel. A statue close to the pub marks the birth of this earnest international organisation (take a historical walkabout here) although I've never once seen a single tambourine waved in the vicinity.
100 years later, Reggie and Ronnie Kray ruled the roost in Whitechapel. They ran the underworld north of the river, while the Richardsons held sway over the south. George Cornell was a burly meathead with a sadistic reputation, originally a mate of the Krays but who later defected to work for the southern gang. George was rumoured to have been heavily involved in a fatal shootout at a club in Catford on 7th March 1966, a gun battle in which one of the Kray's cousins was fatally wounded. Two days later Ronnie heard that George had dared to go drinking in Kray territory, at the Blind Beggar, so he dashed round from a nearby pub to exact his revenge. George greeted Ronnie with a sarcastic comment, so Ronnie whipped out a pistol and shot George three times in the head. Like you do. To the police's dismay not one of the regulars drinking in the pub that night was willing to testify against Ronnie, and so his fearsome gangland career stuttered on unchallenged for another year.
The Blind Beggar today is just an ordinary East End pub with beer garden, conservatory and satellite TV. It still gets its fair share of curious visitors, popping in for a half of shandy as an excuse to hunt for evidence of bulletholes in the walls or bloodstains on the carpet. And there are still just enough Whitechapel residents to keep the business ticking over, though not as many as before because most of the locals these days don't drink alcohol. But you won't see any gangland villains hanging out on the comfy sofas today, nor disguised noblemen begging on the street outside. And, if anybody asks, I wasn't there on that dark March evening forty years ago, honest. I have an alibi - I was attending my first birthday party twenty miles away at the time.
Queen Quality and the Demon of Risk(a modern fairy tale)
Once upon a time, not so long ago in a country not so far away, there lived a humble carpenter called William. William was a great craftsman and carved the finest furniture you ever did see. His tables were a marvel to behold. His cupboards were masterpieces of great beauty. But it was for his magnificent chairs that William was best known. Each chair was carved from solid oak. The legs were curved and elegant. The seats were smooth and comfortable. The backs were intricate and ornate. Everything about William's chairs was exquisite, and he was duly proud of his work.
One day William was at home in his workshop when there was a knock at the door. Imagine his surprise when there, large as life on his front doorstep, stood the Queen! "Hello good citizen William," she said. "I am undertaking a new project at the castle and I am in need of fine furniture. I have heard great things of your woodworking skills, and have come to ask if you would carve me a chair for the royal bedchamber. It must be a great chair, the very finest you can create, and free from all imperfection. We must ensure quality. I'm sure you will not let me down. I bestow upon you three days in which to complete your task." William bowed low as the Queen departed.
On the first day, William set about finding the very finest wood with which to make the chair. He was just about to venture out into the forest when there was a knock at the door. It was the Queen again, holding a sheaf of parchment in her hand. "Oh William, you cannot begin your task until you have completed this Project Initiation Document. I know that you are a great carpenter, but imagine what might happen if your goal objective parameters were left undefined. I cannot allow such a threat to quality". And so William spent most of the first day preparing the Project Initiation Document, consulting with the village elders whenever he got to a particularly difficult part of the 18-page form. Just before sunset he finally found time to go out and collect some wood, but it was a bit scrappy and not up to his usual standards.
On the second day, William busied himself in his workshop ready to carve the various parts of the chair. He was just about to dig his chisel into the wood when there was a knock at the door. It was the Queen again, holding a sheaf of parchment in her hand. "Oh William, you cannot continue your task until you have completed this Risk Assessment Spreadsheet. I know that you are greatly skilled with the fretsaw and the drill, but imagine what might happen if some unforeseen disaster were to impact upon the successful delivery of project milestones. I cannot allow such a threat to quality". And so William spent most of the second day updating the Risk Assessment Spreadsheet, addressing all relevant Health and Safety protocols where necessary. Just before sunset he finally found time to make a start on carving, but the light was failing and his carpentry was not up to his usual standards.
On the third day, William prepared to assemble the chair and to sculpt tiny royal crests into the armrests. He was just about to start putting the pieces together when there was a knock at the door. It was the Queen again, holding a sheaf of parchment in her hand. "Oh William, you cannot complete your task until you have filled in this Performance Appraisal Overview. I know that you are a most talented carpenter, but I must insist on firm documentary evidence that all designated objectives have been achieved. I cannot allow such a threat to quality". And so William spent most of the third day completing the Performance Appraisal Overview, obtaining written feedback from key stakeholders as appropriate. Just before sunset he finally found time to assemble the chair, but there wasn't time to do anything fancy with the armrests or to give the wood a proper varnish.
As night fell, the Queen summoned William to the palace. Here he placed his creation in front of her Majesty, with some trepidation, and handed over the relevant paperwork. "Excellent, you've completed all the necessary forms," said the Queen, before locking them away (unread) inside an overflowing filing cabinet. "My auditors will be duly satisfied. But what kind of chair do you call this? The wood is cheap and knotted. The carving is rudimentary and rushed. The armrests are plain and undecorated. And the varnish is still damp! I don't understand what could possibly have gone wrong. After all, I ensured that you followed all appropriate quality procedures."
"With greatest respect, your Majesty," replied William, "I spent so long filling in all those forms that I didn't have the opportunity to engage properly with the project. You were reluctant to trust me to do a good job, so instead you wasted my time by requiring me to prove that I was doing a good job. Your over-bureaucratic quality procedures actually prevented me from ensuring quality. It's your own bloody fault you blinkered managerial pedant."
"Ooh excellent!" exclaimed the queen. "I think I've just invented Business Quality Management. I must initiate rollout to all organisations across the country immediately. We must ensure quality." And nobody lived happily ever after.
Thanks for voting yesterday in my readership survey - more than 300 of you were kind enough to take part. Now I know a lot more about you all, and how my readership has changed over the last two years. According to my 2006 survey results, the typical diamond geezer reader is a straight-but-coupled 30-something male blog-reader from the London area. If anyone out there reckons they could be Mr Average, please stake your claim in the comments box. And here are those results in a little more detail.
Male or female?
male (218)
72%
female (85)
28%
Hmmm, that's almost three male readers to every female. The proportion of women is slightly higher than two years ago, but not by much. Maybe cyberworld is still full of blokes, or maybe I'm just not posting enough kittens.
Age
<20 (11)
4%
20s (85)
28%
30s (94)
31%
40s (60)
20%
50s (36)
12%
60+ (17)
6%
Well over half of my readers are aged between 20 and 40, with slightly more 30- than 20-somethings. Since 2004 I've picked up rather more older readers than before, especially over the age of 50, but my attempts to attract the yoof market have clearly backfired. What I need is a diamond geezer myspace profile to get down wiv da kidz. So I started one. Well wikkid innit?
Where do you live? (pick one)
London (130)
43%
England (85)
28%
UK (15)
5%
Europe (16)
5%
World (57)
19%
OK, I know I write about London a lot, but by no means exclusively. So I continue to be amazed that my readers are increasingly far more likely to live in London (population 7 million) than anywhere else (population 6½ billion). Altogether just over three quarters of you are from the UK, but the proportion of overseas readers is gradually increasing. Heaven knows why you foreigners are interested in local London stuff, tea and nostalgic 80s TV programmes, but thanks for sticking with me.
A bit more about you
straight, single (97)
32%
straight, coupled (168)
56%
gay, single (19)
6%
gay, coupled (18)
6%
Nearly 90% of you are straight (I suspect that's just below the global average), nearly 40% of you are single (I suspect that's just over the global average), and straight readers are noticeably more likely to be in a relationship than gay readers (I suspect that's deeply meaningful and many of you could blog about the subject at great length).
Do you have your own blog?
yes (135)
44%
no (169)
56%
Although this vote ran very close, I note that the balance has tipped slightly in favour of non-bloggers over the last two years (was 47%, now 56%). Which is odd, because I thought everyone had a blog these days. Maybe your life isn't worth writing about, or maybe you have much better things to do with your time than telling the world what you had for breakfast and what you think of the Prime Minister. And that's fine because, quite frankly, I wouldn't have the time to read 300 of your blogs every day anyway.
How often do you read diamond geezer?
daily (175)
58%
often (94)
31%
occasionally (20)
7%
first visit (14)
5%
Well over half of you come back every day, eh? That's comforting, because I do try very hard to post something every day for you to read. And yes, I know that a lot of you so-called daily readers probably read from work and have the weekends off - my visitor stats would support that - but you're still showing real online commitment. And a special hello to the 14 of you who were making your very first visit yesterday (assuming you ever come back again, that is).
When was your first visit to diamond geezer?
2002 (20)
7%
2003 (37)
12%
2004 (78)
26%
2005 (88)
29%
2006 (77)
26%
And finally, a tribute to the longevity of blog readers. I started diamond geezer 3½ years ago (almost exactly), and 7% of you claim to be part of my first tiny readership trickle. Less than 20% of you were around the last time I ran this survey. Most of you are rather more recent, with about a quarter of you arriving here only within the last couple of months. Thanks to you all for sticking around, however long it's been. But I wonder if these results mean that I can get away with recycling more old posts without most of you noticing? (like this one for example...)
Station opened: Monday 8th August 1898
Baker100 walk: Charing Cross to Embankment
I SPY LONDON
You probably think of Benjamin Franklin as a quintessential American, battling for freedom against the British and signing his name at the bottom of the Declaration of Independence. But what's far less well known is that Franklin spent more than fifteen years of his life living in London. He spent a year in his late teens learning the printing trade (residing in Little Britain, no less) before returning home to set up the Pennsylvania Gazette. In 1757 he came back to London as a fifty-year-old international diplomat, staying considerably longer and taking up lodgings with the Stevenson family in a terraced townhouse in Craven Street [photo].
I don't think I'd previously fully appreciated the broad diversity of Franklin's genius. Not content with being a newspaper baron and civic-minded statesman, Ben was also a talented scientist. His particular interest was the new-fangled study of electricity, including that legendary kite-flying lightning experiment and a lot of playing around with coils and magnets. He kept busy during his voyages across the Atlantic by taking readings which established the path of the Gulf Stream. And in the tiny rear study upstairs at Craven Street he entertained the great thinkers of his day and invented bifocals. Here Polly's emotional parting scene recalled the day in March 1775 when ambassador Ben, disgraced in British eyes as a whistleblower, finally packed his bags and returned to revolutionary America. The special relationship he established between our two countries remains today (twat presidents notwithstanding). And Franklin's London life has been, I think, beautifully remembered here at Craven Street in unique and dramatic fashion. If you don't mind risking forming another minimalist audience, I know Polly would be delighted to show you round.
Hang on, isn't this station called Charing Cross? It used to be when it opened, but since 1974 it's been called Embankment. I warned you yesterday that this was complicated.
With its six tall Classical columns, the Theatre Royal is probably the most impressive building in the street. The present building was designed by (who else?) John Nash in 1820, although the original theatre dates back a century earlier. Her Majesty's Theatre across the road is even older, and has changed name (and gender) five times since 1705 to match with the reigning monarch. Early in its history, as the King's Theatre, it became renowned as the home of London opera under the musical directorship of George Frideric Handel (yes, really, him). The current building, opened in 1897, has a tradition of hosting long running musicals, including Chu Chin Chow (opened 1916, for 2238 performances), Fiddler On The Roof (opened 1967, for 2030 performances) and The Phantom Of The Opera (opened 1986, now over 7500 performances, and no sign of giving up the ghost). Perhaps most memorably of all, for some, Tommy Cooper suffered a fatal heart attack live on ITV whilst performing on stage here in 1984.
Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906
Walk down Regent Street today and what strikes you, apart from the grandeur, is the huge amount of scaffolding on show. In some parts of the street the majority of buildings appear to be boarded up, shielded behind poles and sheeting, while major reconstruction work takes place behind. Modern businesses have different needs to old, and some degree of rebuilding and inconvenience is needed while new retail outlets move in. It's all an illusion, though. The façades may stay intact but everything behind gets gutted - as you can see in this photo taken from Swallow Street, round the back of the main Regent Street curve. When the cranes finally move out and the new businesses and luxury penthouses move in, only a historical veneer will remain. So much of London's history, alas, is but skin deep.
But one retail legend shows no sign of fading away. As long as I can remember there's been a bloke standing in Regent Street with a big arrowed sign saying GOLF SALE. I don't think it's been the same bloke every time, and the sign itself has also evolved (was yellow on black, now black on fluorescent yellow), but the campaign continues. Westminster Council tried to ban this board-borne advert a few years ago, but discovered that the relevant legislation didn't seem to extend to pavements and so the board remains. It's multiplied as well, with several feeder boards pointing towards the main sign pointing down Maddox Street. This isn't a sidestreet you'd otherwise choose to walk along, but on this occasion I thought I'd follow the pointing arrow to see what was there - something I've studiously avoided in the past (not least because I am so very definitely not a golfer). And there, just beyond the burger restaurant and the slightly rundown tanning salon, was the notorious Golf Sale. I was expecting more, perhaps, not just an ordinary shop with an array of golf bags and clubs lined up on the pavement. The big yellow sign at Oxford Circus may have read 'Walk In', but it seemed that nobody had. Two sales assistants stood chatting close to the door in a shop packed with golf equipment but no customers. I would have gone in, but I always feel very uncomfortable in any shop where the staff outnumber the visitors so I walked swiftly past and continued on my way. Even world renowned marketing campaigns, it seems, don't always deliver successful results.
Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906
Change here for: Piccadilly line
• Park Crescent: One of Nash's first crescents [photo], originally planned as a full circle (or circus). The purity of its white stone colonnades still makes me think that Mary Poppins is about to fly in at any minute.
Station opened: Monday 30th July 1900
Bakerloo platforms: tiled with a green and white maze mosaic
Today I'm tracing the tracks from Baker Street to Regent's Park station. Here's an old map showing the geographical route (northeast-ish), which is absolutely nothing like the fantasy route (southeast) depicted on the official London Underground tube map. Whatever today's map may say, the Bakerloo line definitely runs to the north of the Circle line between Edgware Road and Regent's Park, and not to the south.
The first eastward building you meet on leaving Baker Street station is one of the most famous in London - the Planetarium. Its green copper roof is instantly recognisable, as is the small ringed planet perched right on the top of the dome [photo]. As a child I remember reclining on the comfy seats inside the Planetarium and being totally overawed by the astronomical lightshow projected onto the roof above me. I quite fancied going back for another look this year, except that the show has now been dumbed down to a mere ten minutes and entrance is only available as part of a combined ticket with Madame Tussaud's nextdoor. Sorry, but there's no way I'm forking out £22 (yes, £22!) to gawp at a few waxwork celebrities, even if some are supposedly interactive and reveal a bit of greasy flesh. Tragically the owners have decided that the only stars which attract tourists nowadays are of the two-legged kind, so in June the Planetarium in its current form will be closed and transformed into the Auditorium - a new audio-visual show which promises to "get into the heart of celebrity". Sounds absolutely ghastly, but I'm sure the vacuous crowds of tourists who throng the Marylebone Road will lap it up.
Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906
At the turn of the 20th century there were three different east-west underground lines through the centre of London (the Metropolitan, District and Central) but no lines travelling north-south. The new Baker Street & Waterloo Railway aimed to change that, allegedly inspired by the desire of certain Westminster gentlemen to reach Lord's more easily to watch the cricket after work. This was one of London's first deep level tubes, burrowing deep beneath London's streets rather than using much cheaper cut and cover methods. Initial construction was slow due to lack of funds, but inspirational American businessman Charles Yerkes stepped in with financial support and provided the impetus to complete the project. And it was an Evening News headline soon after the railway's opening which first nicknamed the line the "Baker-loo", and the name has stuck ever since.
The Bakerloo's a strange line. It ventures from darkest Southwark to leafy suburbia. Its squat little trains rattle and wheeze through bendy tunnels. Its underground stations remain gloomy and labyrinthine. Its overground stations feel bleak and unloved. But the Bakerloo's still a great little line, nimbly joining several key London locations, and a characterful throwback to how the underground used to be. And it's brown. Even 100 years ago, brown was cutting edge.
Station opened: Saturday 10th January 1863
Thrilling fact: Baker Street was one of only seven underground stations on the world's first underground line between Paddington and Farringdon.
Forty years ago tonight one of the East End's most notorious murders took place. Ronnie Kray walked into the Blind Beggar pub on the Whitechapel Road and shot dead gangland rival George Cornell, supposedly for calling him a "big fat poof". Which of course he was, although it was highly inadvisable to mention this out loud. George may have been stupid, but his cold-blooded murder shocked the East End. And you wouldn't guess from looking at the pub today, but the Blind Beggar has quite a history...
'My father,' she sayd, 'is soone to be seene;Legend tells that the original 'blind beggar' was Henry de Montfort, a medieval nobleman. He was left disfigured following the battle of Evesham in 1265 and reduced to begging on the streets in this part of ye olde Whitechapel. Henry's daughter Bessee was a bit of a looker and soon attracted the attention of many noble suitors, but all were discouraged from marriage by her father's wretched appearance. That is until one gentleman finally had the courage to ask him for Bessee's hand in marriage, upon which Henry revealed that he was in fact heir to the Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort, and handed over a large sum of money to pay for the wedding. That's one version of the story, anyway.In Pepys' time Whitechapel and Bethnal Green were well-to-do country villages situated in green fields outside the City walls. However, the growth of the capital over subsequent centuries brought great poverty and slum conditions to the area. In 1865 former Methodist minister William Booth arrived here from Nottingham and was shocked by what he saw. He was walking along the Whitechapel Road when he came across a religious open-air meeting taking place outside the Blind Beggar. William stepped up to preach and so impressed the organisers that they invited him to lead their small tent-based mission nearby. From this chance meeting was formed the Salvation Army, and Booth devoted the rest of his life to raising the poor of the East End out of poverty through the power of the gospel. A statue close to the pub marks the birth of this earnest international organisation (take a historical walkabout here) although I've never once seen a single tambourine waved in the vicinity.
"I went off to the Mile End Waste, where Mr Booth was preaching. Well, I think he was the most impetuous man I ever met. There he was holding forth, surrounded by the blackguards of Whitechapel, who in them days were the greatest vagabonds you could meet anywhere on God’s earth. Some were mocking, and some were laughing; but Mr. Booth he shouted at them finely, and then gave out a hymn, and led the singing till he just drowned their noises, or nearly so."100 years later, Reggie and Ronnie Kray ruled the roost in Whitechapel. They ran the underworld north of the river, while the Richardsons held sway over the south. George Cornell was a burly meathead with a sadistic reputation, originally a mate of the Krays but who later defected to work for the southern gang. George was rumoured to have been heavily involved in a fatal shootout at a club in Catford on 7th March 1966, a gun battle in which one of the Kray's cousins was fatally wounded. Two days later Ronnie heard that George had dared to go drinking in Kray territory, at the Blind Beggar, so he dashed round from a nearby pub to exact his revenge. George greeted Ronnie with a sarcastic comment, so Ronnie whipped out a pistol and shot George three times in the head. Like you do. To the police's dismay not one of the regulars drinking in the pub that night was willing to testify against Ronnie, and so his fearsome gangland career stuttered on unchallenged for another year.Yesterday I was 40.
I SPY LONDON
You probably think of Benjamin Franklin as a quintessential American, battling for freedom against the British and signing his name at the bottom of the Declaration of Independence. But what's far less well known is that Franklin spent more than fifteen years of his life 
I don't think I'd previously fully appreciated the broad 
Change here for: Piccadilly line
• Park Crescent: One of Nash's first 
Bakerloo platforms: tiled with a green and white maze mosaic
Today I'm tracing the tracks from Baker Street to Regent's Park station. Here's an 
Station opened: Saturday 10th March 1906
At the turn of the 20th century there were three different east-west underground lines through the centre of London (the Metropolitan, District and Central) but no lines travelling north-south. The new Baker Street & Waterloo Railway aimed to change that, allegedly inspired by the desire of certain Westminster gentlemen to reach Lord's more easily to watch the cricket after work. This was one of London's first deep level tubes, burrowing deep beneath London's streets rather than using much cheaper cut and cover methods. Initial construction was slow due to lack of funds, but inspirational American businessman 
Forty years ago tonight one of the East End's most notorious murders took place. Ronnie 
In Pepys' time Whitechapel and Bethnal Green were well-to-do country villages situated in green fields outside the City walls. However, the growth of the capital over subsequent centuries brought great 
