Ep 42 City of London Historic Pubs Then & Now - A 1973 Pub Crawl

In this episode, we compare City of London pubs featured in a 1973 book with what we find today – we look at Williamson Tavern, Ye Olde Watling, The Sugar Loaf, The Golden Fleece and The Lord Raglan

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Google map with pubs covered in previous episodes pinned, courtesy of Andy Meddick:

https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/edit?mid=1xXDGJSfJIUy2gw_6uCASi-C45FpOg_M&usp=sharing

Or TinyURL:  https://tinyurl.com/4xhc8w2s

The  following resource(s) were used / quoted in this episode:

Richards & Curl, City of London Pubs - A Practical and Historic Guide  ISBN:0-87749-358-8

https://darkestlondon.com/

https://teaching.shu.ac.uk/ds/sle/Excerpts/Romantics/Lamb.htm

Wikipedia.com

Williamson’s Tavern & Ye Olde Watling:

https://www.heathershimmin.com/williamsons-tavern

https://knowyourlondon.wordpress.com/2017/12/15/williamsons-tavern-bow-lane/

https://alondoninheritance.com/londonpubs/city-of-london-pubs-july-2020/#:~:text=Williamson's%20Tavern%20%E2%80%93%20Groveland%20Court,to%20enter%20the%20narrow%20alley.

https://www.pubsgalore.co.uk/pubs/23572/

SugarLoaf

https://www.pubsgalore.co.uk/pubs/54217/

https://pubwiki.co.uk/LondonPubs//StPancrasSoperLane/SugarLoaf.shtml

https://victorianweb.org/art//architecture/pubs/41.html

Golden Fleece

https://pubwiki.co.uk/LondonPubs/StPancrasSoperLane/GoldenFleece.shtml

https://whatpub.com/pubs/ELC/14959/golden-fleece-london

Lord Raglan:

https://alondoninheritance.com/londonpubs/pubs-of-the-city-of-london-july-2020-part-3/

https://pubwiki.co.uk/LondonPubs//StAnneStAgnes/RaglanHotel.shtml

https://whatpub.com/pubs/ELC/14628/lord-raglan-london

Intro Music:  Vivaldi - Spring Allegro by John Harrison w/ the Wichita State University Chamber Orch.

Photo:  Ewan Munro

Website: https://historiclondonpubcast.com/

E-mail: hosteric@historiclondonpubcast.com

Transcript

Welcome to this episode of the Historic London Podcast. I'm Eric Blair, and I'd like to take you on a journey through the rich history of London's iconic pubs. My goal is to share with you my passion for the great old pubs of London. I want to give you some facts to help you appreciate the history of these hallowed establishments mixed in with some fun stories that make it all go down as smooth as a well poured pint. 

Today, we'll start with a little different approach to our pub discussion. Back in 1973, a book was published called City of London Pubs, A Practical and Historic Guide by Timothy M. Richards and James Stevens Curl. It divided the city of London into 10 areas and within each by their judgment were a “Manageable number of pubs.” 

In previous episodes, we've occasionally referenced pub books of the past. The most notable was Maurice Gorham's Return To The Local published in the 1940s. 

What makes Richards and Curl's book different is that I don't know of an earlier book that laid out the pubs in what might be called pub crawl format. The book is out of print, but it can be bought from used book sellers. I got mine off eBay. It came in good shape with even the dust jacket intact. I opened the cover and on the blank first page I found a gentleman, likely the first owner, wrote his name and the month and date. James H. Hurley Jr., May 1975. A fellow pub lover, no doubt, and someone who has better penmanship than me. Wherever James is now, I hope he's in a good place. 

Looking over the book, I wondered how many of the pubs they mentioned are now closed or transitioned to some other service? Then I got the idea! Why not pick a section and do an episode following their route? It's been 50 years since the book was written. Maybe using it as a starting reference will help us understand the changes that have happened over the last half century. Or maybe it will just give us a darn good list of pubs. Either way, we win. Also, I found myself wondering about the authors of the book, just like I had about James, the previous owner. I didn't have much luck tracking down James, but I had more success with the book's authors. 

Timothy Richards? The book jacket offers a glimpse. He was an Economist by trade with a strong sideline in history, especially London history, and a deep appreciation for pub life. So deep in fact that while researching the origins of various London pubs, Richards took leave from his job in the city and went on to manage a pub in Oxford. It was there that he met co-author James Stevens Curl and the two decided to write this book together. Now Curl is a man of some renown. He's an Architectural Historian with a particular focus on Victorian and Edwardian design. He's written widely on British architecture with titles like, “The Victorian Celebration of Death,” and “The Oxford Dictionary of Architecture.” He held academic posts including at Queens University in Belfast and is a Fellow of both the Society of Antiquarians and the Royal Society of Arts. It just goes to show you never know who will catch pub history fever or how it will take hold. Believe me, I speak from experience. 

So, I decided to randomly choose one of their sections. I picked Number Six, Cheapside. I started working on this and then I discovered that someone had this very idea 10 years ago.

The blog site Darkest London is authored by Marc Haynes. He says his site is dedicated to the offbeat history, stories, and sites of London and its inhabitants. Marc did a series on the pubs in the book 40 years on, but just as a happy accident, he only did the first five sections. My random pick of Number Six starts where he left off. Marc's five pieces are well done, and I think of interest to any of us pub history fans. I have linked his blog in the notes. 

With all that background, let's get started. Oh, just one more thing. First, let me make sure everyone knows what the book's authors are referring to when they say they have started with the city of London and divided it into sections. It may sound like they meant that they started with London as a whole, but this is not the case. The city of London refers to a specific and historic part of the capital, roughly one square mile in size, bordered by the Tower of London to the east and Temple Bar to the west. It's often called the square mile, and it marks the site of the original Roman settlement of Londinium. Today it functions not only as a financial district but also as a district legal and civic entity. The city has its own local authority, the City of London Corporation, its own police force, and even its own Lord Mayor separate from the Mayor of London. With a history of self-governance going back more than 800 years, it's as much a continuation of medieval traditions as a hub of modern commerce. 

Richard and Curl's book is not as fussy as we are about what establishments they include in their roots. Wine bars and even a few places for a quick snack are in there in addition to the pubs. They start with an outlet that was part of a wine bar chain at 6 to 8 Cheapside. All the outlets in the chain had the same slightly outrageous name that the company did, Balls Brothers. They began as Wine Merchants in 1860 and supplied fine Ports, Sherries, and Clarets to the discerning palates of the Victorian Londoners. By the mid-20th century, they had expanded into a network of wine bars, elegant wood paneled retreats catering largely to city professionals.

In the 1960s and ‘70s, their name was nearly synonymous with London's financial district. If you worked in banking or insurance, chances are you toasted a deal or nursed to defeat under a Balls Brothers chandelier. By 1973, when our guidebook was written, they were very much at their peak, running numerous sites and projecting the image of a certain kind of respectable, well-lubricated masculinity. But times changed. The company shifted hands more than once in the early 21st century, restructuring during the leaner years after the financial crash and saw several of its venues close. Today, only a handful remain operating under various ownerships. The heyday has passed, but for a time Balls Brothers were very much a part of the libation scene of the time. The book put two locations of the Balls Brothers on our list for today, but both are now closed. 

The next stop is another wine selling outlet, but it is indeed open. Richards and Curl knew it as just The Bow Wine Vaults, but today's ownership dates back to the late 1980s and has the name Balfour at Bow Wine Vaults. It's in Bow Churchyard, a historic enclave off Cheapside adjacent to St Mary-le-bow, one of London's most famous churches. St Mary-le-bow was founded in the 11th century, and it gets its ‘le-bow’ from the grand Norman arches in the crypt, an architectural flourish unusual at the time. But what really put it on the map were the bells. The legend says that they rang out to a young Dick Whittington in 1392, calling him back to the city and on to life as Lord Mayor. And if you were born within earshot of those bells, that made you a true Cockney. 

The church has been all but destroyed, not once but twice. First in the great fire of 1666, after which Christopher Wren rebuilt it, and then again in the Blitz when the Luftwaffer bombs left only a shell standing and brought the bells crashing down. But like the city it serves, St Mary-le-bow rose again. The tower survived. The interior was painfully restored, and today the bells ring out once more, calling Londoners home, just as they did centuries ago. 

The Wine Vaults appear in directories by the early 1800s. While records are sporadic, it's likely was a merchants drinking house benefiting from its proximity to the bustling Cheapside Market. During the Victorian period, the premises were rebuilt and became more refined. Today's bar occupies the ground floor of a handsome Edwardian building dating back to the early 20th century. Inside, the space has been adapted for wine bar and brasserie use but retains the feel of a cellar bar with exposed brick walls and arch vaults. The vaults are operated today as they have been since 1987 by the same folks that operate the Balfour Winery in Kent, a prominent producer of English wines. Reviews are good, so Richards and Curl should be happy that their recommendation is still valid. 

Fortunately, the next two stops are still with us as well. They are highly regarded pubs that would certainly appear in the short list of the best historic pubs in the city.  First, we'll go to Williamson's Tavern at One Groveland Court. What Curl and Richards wrote is useful and applicable to today, 

“The entrance to this tavern is particularly inviting. Its window boxes, hanging baskets of flowers, and wrought iron work adding a welcoming splash of color to the surroundings. The interior is a comfortable hotel type establishment with fine restaurant, banqueting suite and set of private rooms. On display is a plaque indicating the precise center of the city.” Until Mansion House was built by George Dance in 1752, the present building served as the official residence for all Lord Mayors of London. After one function here in their reign, William and Mary presented the Mayor with the building's WM monogrammed wrought iron gates.” 

Side note, this would have been around the late 1600s. Before the fire, the original house once belonged to Sir John Falstaff, the supposed Knight of Shakespeare's play. Rebuilt in 1688, it saw many changes before the latest modification in the beginning of the 1930s. Mr. Williamson bought the premises now bearing his name in about 1770. 

Let me add a few points to what they wrote. Robert Williamson was the man who purchased the building as mentioned. He converted it into a hotel, and it functioned as one and remained in the family until 1914 when descendant James Williamson died. The place was then sold at auction beginning in 1923. It was the home of the City Livery Company, a member only club for individuals connected to the city of London. The club was established to provide a space for social and professional interaction among members of the city's civic and ceremonial life. It moved out of Williamson's building by the end of the 1920s but is still active today at another location. After the club left, a rebuild was done in 1934 that took out most of the hotel features and left us with just the tavern. 

I think what Curl and Richards said about the interior and dining is a bit different today. It's currently a Nicholson's pub with a good menu, but not the fine restaurant they mentioned. And I would say that the interior is more inn-like than hotel-like. When you step inside, the ground floor divides into two main spaces. The smaller room known as, “The Tavern,” and the larger, more open space called, “Williamson's Tavern.” They're connected by a narrow hallway just 15 feet long, which gives the place a tucked away almost secretive flow. The Tavern section is long and lean, while Williamson's section opens out with a generous round and communal tables banquet seating that lines the back walls. It does stay fairly dim inside even in the summer, but that's often a silver lining. You're usually able to find a table even when the city is heaving. 

There's a downstairs bar, “Martha's Bar,” which is reserved for private functions. A couple of final points of interest. During the refurb work of the 1930s, Roman bricks were unearthed and incorporated into the fireplace surrounding The Tavern bar. What a great link to the past. And remember the downstairs function room that's called Martha's Bar? So, who is Martha? That's the name given to what is said to be The Tavern's ghost. And she's not the friendly kind. More poltergeist-like. The story goes that during the renovations back in 1934, something was stirred up. A restless spirit perhaps. And ever since there have been strange goings on, especially on Saturday nights, odd noises, things move on their own, and the occasional gusts through Groveland Court that seem to knock down branches with no wind in sight. One longtime barmaid reportedly refuses to work the late shift, having had one too many unsettling encounters. And according to local lore, police dogs bark as they pass Groveland Court. 

Well, with that, maybe we need to drink up and move along. As our authors say, the next one is, 

“A few yards to the south, Ye Olde Watlingat 29 Bow Lane,” 

with the first word spelled Ye and the old spelled with an E, telling us that this one has been around the block a time or two. As Richards and Curls say, 

“An ancient inn rebuilt only a year after the great fire and restored in 1901 and 1947; Ye Olde Watling has managed to retain a good deal of character by employing many original materials in the present building. The ceiling has massive wooden beams worn by ravages of time, considerable quantity of wood, all dark, and the furniture is plain, comfortable, and perfectly in keeping with the surroundings. In one corner, a snack bar nestles unobtrusively, and a door opposite leads to the small, secluded Wren Bar and an almost unnoticed dart board. Several paintings and other knickknacks are displayed, including 31 prints of Wren’s City churches and their reproductions of old maps on the restaurant staircase. Just as Sir Christopher Wren probably lodged at The Old Bell when rebuilding Saint Bride's Church in Fleet Street, he may have also stayed here during part of the rebuild of Saint Paul's Cathedral. The pub is named, of course, after the Roman Watling Street in which it stands. One of the oldest roads in London. It's a three-story building of pleasant proportions, built of stock brick with a timber pub front of especially fine proportions.” 

Richardson and Curl's description of the interior may need to be tempered a bit, especially their comment about the beams worn by the ravages of time. The temper frame interior seen today mostly dates from a 1901 renovation that aimed to stay close to the original design. Additional repairs were made after damage from the Blitz in World War II. I don't think the dart board and the snack bar are still there. And what they refer to as the Wren Bar is now likely the dining room, but historical prints are still on the wall, much as they have described. This is a Nicholson's pub and a very popular one indeed with the City of London crowd. So, it fills to overflow in the afterwork hours. Try to get there a bit earlier to truly enjoy this little jewel. So, I think we can conclude that Williamson's Tavern and Ye Olde Watling have fared pretty well over the last 50 years. Some minor differences, but mostly unchanged. This is good news. 

Okay, let's think about the next one. Two minutes away at 65 Canon Street, The Sugarloaf. But first, let's remember its fallen comrades, pubs in the 1973 book that are no longer around. 

The Red Lion on Watling Street closed in 2015. Richards and Curl described this as a modern pub in the Brook Bond Tea Building. Sorry for the loss, but maybe no significant history was destroyed. 

The Dandy Roll on Broad Street. This was described as a large modern pub as well, named for a component in paper manufacturing that provides the watermark. They speculate that the name was taken to increase popularity amongst the employees of the nearby paper manufacturing company. That company is now lost in the myths of mergers and acquisitions, and I would guess that few pedestrians in this area would even know what a Dandy Role is. 

Next on the list of the departed is The Skinner's Arms, 53 Canon Street. Named after the Worshipful Company of Skinners, that's the Fur Trade Guild, and conveniently located near what was Beaver House, the headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company, one of the preeminent fur trading companies. Hudson's Bay relocated its headquarters to Canada. Beaver House was torn down and the pub closed. Over the years, there have been several London pubs taking the name Skinner's Arms, but only one exists today just south of King's Cross Station. 

Okay, let's put down the obituaries for a bit. We're at The Sugarloaf. You could be forgiven for asking, "Isn't there one of these over on Fleet Street?" That's The Crown and Sugarloaf. A very nice Neo-Gin Palace covered in Gin Palaces 2 Episode. This one is just The Sugarloaf, no Crown. The name is a nod to the sugar refining industry which had a prominence in the area. In the 18th century, there were several sugar refineries, but most or all were taken out with the construction of Southwark Bridge in 1819. But they left the potential for a good name for a pub. In sugar processing, boiling of raw sugar from the Caribbean produced a syrup that was poured into a conical mold. Over time, the liquid drained, and the sugar crystallized. It was then taken from the mold, wrapped in blue paper, which made the sugar look whiter, and sold. This was a sugar loaf. Final customers wouldn't buy the whole loaf. Households would typically chip or shave off the amount they needed using special sugar nips, a kind of heavy-duty scissor or pincer tool. First records I can find on this pub go back to 1827 when it was run by John Curling. By coincidence, a man with a name similar to one of our book’s authors. The pub rocked along for the next hundred years or so. One source reported that it got heavy damage during the Blitz, and there was a major rebuild done in the 1950s, giving us our pub of today. It took a rename to O'Neal's in 1999 but reclaimed its original name in about 2007. Good for them. 

Richards and Curl describe it as, 

“A popular middle-of the road pub with two bars.”

Sounds a little so-so, doesn't it? Things might be better today. It has been taken over by Nicholson's and has a Grade II listing. That is, the building is protected. A reviewer on pubs galore.com says,

"Nicely kept Nicholson City Pub with leaded windows and matchboard ceiling with lots of polished wood and dark painted wood. The two-bar layout has mainly stools to one side with lots of open floor space.”

So, I think we can chalk this pub up as the same or maybe better after the 50-year span and most importantly a survivor from the early 1800s. The next location in the book is Sweding Oyster Bar, which is still around now called Sweding Restaurant. We'll skip that one until we produce a historic London Oyster Bar podcast.

Happily, the next entry is a pub and is still open. The Golden Fleece at 9 Queen Street. Richards and Curl say,

“Large, light, and open. The first feature that strikes one about The Golden Fleece is the almost complete lack of seating. Food is the main preoccupation behind the bar, and no fewer than three separate snack bars scattered on all sides supplement this trade.” 

Today, it's a Green King pub, and they apparently have sorted out the food pub interface that seems to have bothered our book authors. There's a downstairs for dining or events. The website highlights their food service, as do the reviewers, but it appears to be served a bit more properly than just grabbing off a snack bar. As the write up of 1973 would imply, historical records show a pub here from the 1820s with the name Golden Fleece. The pub was chosen by Green King to be the place where they began the reintroduction of Raymond Special, a traditional cask ale originally brewed by Raymond's Brewery, a Hertfordshire based company dating back to the 19th century that was acquired by Green King in the 1920s. I'm not sure when the reintroduction took place, but the beer was available until about the beginning of this decade. Sadly, that is no longer the case. It held something of a cult status among traditional beer drinkers, but evidently, there were not enough of them to keep the brew flowing. 

There's a side story about this place. Stockbrokers from the nearby city financial firms used to refer to The Golden Fleece as, “The Shears.” A pun on the idea of fleecing clients before knocking off for a pint or two. A long serving bartender supposedly quipped, 

"Half the deals in here were made with more beer than sense.”

Maybe the best thing is to stick to discussing beer and sports when you pop in. 

So, The Golden Fleece is doing okay relative to how it was a half century ago. No reports of damage from the Blitz or anything. Although not Grade II listed, it looks to have the management and the economic viability to continue on. 

Okay, on to our last pub from the Cheapside section of the book. After The Golden Fleecethere are nine pubs on the remaining part of this group that have been closed. You see the status statements like, 

“Closed in 2006 after several name changes, building demolished or just building demolished or property acquired or converted to a pizza restaurant and later demolished, and finally just plain old closed.”

 Judging by what was offered in the book though, none of these pubs were as historic as the ones we have surviving today. At least I hope so. Richards and Curl talk about a historic place we pass along the way. You know, something I like to do as well. They mention a pub that was gone in their day, The Salutation and Cat. It was remembered then and is still remembered today. It stood at 17 Newgate Street. The unusual name occurred in 1744 and can be explained by an advertisement in the Daily Advertiser stating that,

“Clement Davies, who kept The Cat at Rose Street for the better accommodation of his customers, has now moved The Cat to The Salutation Tavern next door.”

 The pub is mentioned in the letters of Charles Lamb and in particular of Lamb's friendship with Poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge. In 1794, Coleridge, “Having abandoned his tolerant though paying college” came to town and took up lodgings in The Salutation and Cat. His fertile conversation was rumored to have provided, “So much for the good of the house” that the landlord offered him permanent and free entertainment. Reflecting on his time at the pub, Lamb wrote to Coleridge, perhaps a bit buzzed when he took up his pen, 

“I have been drinking Egghot and smoking Orinoco (his term for tobacco) which ever forcibly recall to my mind are evenings and nights at The Salutation. My eyes and brain are heavy and asleep, but my heart is awake, and if words come as ready as ideas, and as ideas as feelings, I could say ten hundred kind things Coleridge, you know not my supreme happiness at having one on earth, though country separates us, whom I can call a friend.” 

Whoa, Mr. Lamb, Egghot, and Orinoco must be some strong stuff! 

The Salutation and Cat disappeared sometime after 1899. It would have been terrific to still have it around. It's gone, but we have our last pub, The Lord Raglan at 61 St Martin’s Le Grand, and this is a historic one. Richards and Curl talk about the pub's history, but A London Inheritance does a better job. So, let me draw from that,

“The current building dates from 1855 when the previous pub on the site became the Lord Raglan Hotel. A pub has been on the site since the 16th century when it was known as The Fountain. It later became The Bush and then The Mourning Bush. The source of the name Bush is interesting as it dates from the times when many people were illiterate and picture signs directed people to the right place. The Globe newspaper in September of 1903 referenced the pub in St Martin’s Le Grand, 

“And before inn signs became the heterogeneous unmeaning medley of heroes and landowners’ heads, of blue boars and heraldic monstrosities, there were two or three emblems which were chosen signs of vintners’ and ale sellers’ trade. Some used a chessboard pattern on their shutters and so became known as The Checkers, a name still used but the common signs were The Red Lattice and The Ivy Bush.  The bush was always of ivy, the custom, thus preserving the association of ivy with Bacchus, which takes us back to classical times. A tavern keeper in Aldersgate Street, when Charles I was beheaded, painted his artificial bush black, and his house was long known as The Mourning Bush at Aldersgate. To ‘Beat The Ivy Bush’ became a recognized slang phrase for the habit of tavern frequenting.”

The article refers to The Mourning Bush being in Aldersgate.  This street name seems to have been used as well as St Martin's Le Grand as the pub was so close to the junction of the two streets and the site of the original city gate.” 

Thank you alondoninheritance.com

Pubwiki gives us an interesting tidbit,

“The pub was once entitled to be open 24 hours a day by Royal edict after the landlord opened to King Charles II in the early hours of the morning. The pub was reconstructed in 1855 and renamed in honor of a military man who died that same year. The Lord Raglan takes its name from Fitzroy Somerset, later the first Baron Raglan, a soldier stitched into the fabric of British military history. He began his career as a trusted aid to the Duke of Wellington, even losing an arm at Waterloo, a sacrifice that earned him lasting respect. But decades later, as commander of British forces during the Crimean War, his legacy took a darker turn. Raglan was at the helm during the infamous Charge Of The Light Brigade when a muddled set of orders led to a catastrophic calvary assault straight into Russian artillery fire. Nearly 300 men died and yet the moment was immortalized in verse by Tennyson and celebrated as a kind of tragic bravery. In Victorian Britain, military spectacle, even if disastrous, was often honored. Raglan got a peerage, a statue, a poem, and the greatest honor of all, a pub named after him.”

If you ask this question based on the 1973 description in the book versus reviewers’ descriptions of today, what's changed? Here might be the response, 

In 1973, the main bar featured a more theatrical and compartmentalized setup. barrels as corner pieces, mock cherry cast overhead, and rustic tables arranged in carriage-like booths. The ceiling over the restaurant area was especially striking, fashioned from plated twigs. By contrast, today's interior feels more open and streamlined. The quirky features are gone, replaced by clean lines, standard finishes and bookcase wallpaper. The dark wood paneling still plays a role, especially in the rear snug, but now shares space with plasma screens and more neutral palette. Upstairs, the space once held a small bar and dedicated grill room. Today, it's a larger area with a sports bar feel complete with projector screens and pool tables. The function has shifted from dining to entertainment, but the use of the upper floor still remains. While the decor has changed, the layout, two levels with distinct atmospheres, carries a through line from the past to the present.”

 Richards and Curl wrote, 

“Although no capital is made out of the fact The Raglan is extremely old." 

I think that is the case today. The pub doesn't really display its history, but it does seem like a good place to stop and ruminate about its history now that we know about it, over a pint. And hey, you might even have a good time. This review is typical of several that I saw,

“I came in here for a quick drink and ended up staying longer. The staff was very friendly, the music was good, and it was a nice atmosphere.”

Okay, that wraps up our ‘Then And Now’ of the pubs in the book’s Cheapside section. Six still open and thirteen closed. This 50-year look back has been fun for me, but that's not important. What is important, did you like this bit of difference from our usual fair? Kind of like being asked by your server in the pub, “Did you like the seasonal special instead of your usual shepherd's pie?” We have additional sections of the book and could do another one at some point in the future. 

If you've got thoughts, good, bad, or somewhere in between, I'd love to hear them. Just send me a note using the email in the show notes hosteric@historiclondonpubcast.com 

If you do have time for a wander, you can always visit historiclondonpubcast.com for a pub map, newsletter, and more. 

Thanks for listening. Be sure to subscribe so you don't miss what's next. Because, as we like to say, 

“Every pub tells a story if you know where to look.”

Till then, cheers.