In search of lost London

by Albert Evans [All pictures by: Joshua Hughes]

London is perpetually changing. Shops and businesses close, buildings change hands and are demolished, and residents move constantly. 

This is generally expected but it is possible that in amongst the never-ending renewal, aspects that have come to define our city can be lost.

London belongs to no-one, yet we are all London, regardless of whether we were born here or not. This is a city shaped, scarred and fuelled by global events.

Its history may seem distant but it is who we are and who we will become. Its residents are its lifeblood and it remains a magnet for people for all kinds of reasons, just as it has for centuries.

For those of us with London in our heritage, what is behind us feels a mere fraction of the city, for it is the future that preoccupies us the most.

Many of the smaller attributes of our city melt quietly away, only to be forgotten. 

It is a shame that the past times and culture of the marginalised often fall by the way-side, while the semi-obsolete and un-inclusive pastimes of the rich have the political clout to resist changing values, evident in London’s thriving private members clubs.

Many working class cultures, if failing to reinvent themselves as kitsch parodies, simply do not survive.

Working men’s clubs were hubs for communities in a London that simply does not exist anymore. Based around the docks, factories and warehouses, some of the buildings still stand, but very few are open. 

They provided meeting rooms and bars to which the Labour party and the trade union movement owe its origins.

Rob Moran, 41, a committee member of the Willesden Working Men’s Club says: “When we first established the club we had a lot of different traders and workers coming through the door, my grandfather came here. Industries have since disappeared and new generations have gone into different trades.”

What were once community hubs have been killed off by dwindling membership, bad press and, more often than not, the fact that many sit on large patches of ground in highly valuable, gentrified areas. Moran says sadly: “A lot of our members have been priced out of London.”

When, in August 2008, Walthamstow Dogs Track closed leaving only two – Wimbledon and Romford – of the former 33 stadia left, it seemed that the omnipotent property developers would have a fight on their hands. However, to this day the stadium stands empty, neither re-opened nor re-developed.

Leaving tracks

The closest thing to a London dog track left is Wimbledon Greyhound Stadium. Located in a bleak corner of south west London, among industrial estates and car showrooms, the stadium still manages to attract large crowds.

Situated on relatively low value land, the only thing that could kill the place is a poor turnout. But the crowds do come, and the experience, despite baffling to the uninitiated, is none the less enjoyable.

Zak Best, 20, a London resident who went to the ‘dogs’ for the first time recently, said of his experience: “It felt like a slice of the old London, as if nothing had changed at the track in all its years of existence.”

Despite being the bogeyman of city dwelling worldwide, gentrification is a double-edged sword. What has driven impoverished Londoners around the city, and indeed out of London, need not always be a bad thing.

It is more often the preconceptions of what the new residents want that causes the decline of local businesses and institutions. But it does not mean that all is necessarily erased as soon as money comes in to a specific area.

In some cases the original local community and culture is the reason for people moving there in the first place. It is the big chains that then force out local business and erode local identity.

It comes as no surprise that in London, a thriving centre of trade for so many years, we have come to think of many businesses as one of the city’s key characteristics. For even money through the till cannot be replaced by loving sentiment and nostalgia. 

It is strange to think of these businesses carrying so much history. But in our ruthlessly competitive economy, many find it difficult to compete for custom against chains and very few independent businesses remain on our high streets.

Food for thought

One stereotypical old London tradition has to be Pie and Mash. What was once a staple food for Londoners can now only be found in a few places. One of the most well known is M.Manze which has three shops; in Peckham, Bermondsey and Sutton.

A testament to multiculturalism’s deep roots in London, it was started by Michele Manze, an Italian immigrant who originally sold ice and ice-cream. He took over the business when he married the daughter of the owner and the first shop bearing his name opened in 1901. The oldest surviving pie and mash shop, it first opened on 87 Tower Bridge Road, SE1.

The business grew and despite a number of the shops being destroyed in the Second World War, and one being burnt down in the Peckham Riots of 1985, the business still remains in the Manze family’s hands today.

London’s history is engrained on the family company: “We used to be open from nine in the morning to 12 at night,” said Richard Manze, Michele’s grandson. “At the time there were loads of factories in London so different shifts would come in at different times.”

The restaurant’s clientele make sure that the place remains true to its roots and the business feels little pressure to modernise: “We sell vegetarian pies now but that’s about all that’s changed. They like it traditional. Put someone new in the back making pastry and the customers will let us know about it!”

Despite there once being more than 15 M.Manze pie and mash shops, Manze feels the business is sustainable in its current position: “People associate us with their communities and that’s what keeps us going,” said Manze.

Estates for the state

However, not all that is disappearing fits into a quaint, traditional vision of London. The Heygate Estate in the Elephant and Castle, which was once one of the biggest housing estates in Europe, now stands vacant although not unused. 

Instead it has become a temporary film set with Harry Brown (starring Michael Caine), Top Boy and The Bill - all featuring scenes from the abandoned estate.

Southwark council said: “The Heygate Estate was built in the ‘70s and was home to more than 3,000 people.  Due to a range of physical design challenges, such as poor security, low energy efficiency and environmental issues, we agreed to re-house residents and demolish the estate to make way for the regeneration of the area.”

This represents the end of an ideology born out of the end of the Second World War which saw the Labour government, alongside the welfare state, prioritise housing as one of the key ways to lift people out of poverty.

Phillip Opher, Fellow of the Oxford School of Architecture, who worked on many of the projects of the day said: “What we now look at as quaint terraced housing were looked at as slums. Poor drainage and infrastructure, overcrowding and very little maintenance meant that they were poor places to live.”

In 1951, as part of the Festival of Britain, people were shown around the Lansbury Estate in Poplar, East London.

This was presented as the model for social housing and local authorities began to pull down slum housing and use the large patches of bombsites to build the tower blocks and housing estates that, for many, are now synonymous with inner city deprivation. “There was much talk about density at the time. By building higher we could provide more green and open space in crowded areas,” said Opher.

The problem with much of the housing was not necessarily an issue with quality.  “What was essentially a European ideal, which the Europeans still love to this day, was imported by the architectural community and passed on to the authorities. Its reasons for failing were more often social, political and cultural; rather than physical,” Opher continued.

“The idea didn’t translate very well on to the English idea of privacy and personal space. When the ideals of the post-war era began to fade, many residents felt little vested interest in their surroundings. This, combined with poor investment and maintenance by the authorities, meant that places soon became nearly as bad as those they had replaced. Authorities compounded the problems by placing ‘problem’ individuals and families together, ” said Opher.

Ugly lessons

The ride to the modern day has been a bumpy one. But the last 20 years have seen new ideas emerge. The main cause of homogenisation that we experience across London is the corporatisation across all areas of our lives.

The high streets are practically identical across London, if not the entire country. Most new housing is built by giant property consortiums whose feeble attempts at public space often consists of a small amount of retail units that are too expensive for small business to afford. Small pockets of independent shops remain and those that do often only cater to a small slice of society without attracting much new business.

Looking just at the quaint and agreeable is not enough. To really understand our past, even the ugliest parts, the not-so-glitzy fallout from modernisation of our city must be recognised.