The glazing bar dowel joint quickly became superseded by the mitred joint. However, the joint itself (and the use of a sash dowelling box to make it) is of some interest to me. It’s actually very simple, as Richard Arnold showed me.
The picture at the head of this post shows the GWR (Great Western Railway) Carriage Erecting Shop at the Swindon Works in 1886. Look closely and you will see the craftsmen’s tool chests positioned between each workbench. One of these chests was recently offered to me as a restoration project and it still has some original tools left in it. The chest is pretty battered, but with some careful replacement of parts to the tills and sliding drawers, would not be a huge job. If you are interested in saving this wonderful old chest, get in touch. I don’t have the space for the project and I already have a similar chest which I use. If I do complete a sale, I’m happy to pass the chest on, (probably minus the tools), without any profit for myself. Tool chests like these deserve to be saved.
Britain was hugely affected by the advent of the railways in the first half of the nineteenth century. The GWR completed it’s first section of line from London’s Paddington station to Maidenhead in 1838. By the end of 1840, the line extended through Swindon, with the line being completed out to Bristol in the summer of the 1840.
The Engineer to the Company was none other than, of course, the great Isambard Kingdom Brunel. Brunel and his Superintendent of Locomotives, Daniel Gooch, were concerned about the poor quality of locomotives being supplied by outside contractors and resolved to set up a central repair depot for the rolling stock.
The chosen location was Swindon, which afforded direct connection to the Somerset coalfields via canal and well placed with it already being at the junction of the Cheltenham branch. Work began in 1841 and within two years the works employed 400 men, including 72 highly-skilled engineers. The workers made it quickly clear that they wanted to take on ‘in-house’ manufacturing also, and in 1846, the company produced its first locomotive, called the Great Western. From 1861 they even started making the rails in Swindon’s own mill.
Battles over the costs of all this innovation saw Gooch resign after one too many arguments with company directors, but he was swiftly re-hired as chairman of the company later on, perhaps with the directors realising just how important innovative ideas were in their business.
One battle that the GWR was losing, however, was over the railway gauge, with Brunel’s broad gauge about to be superseded by standard gauge. Swindon produced its first standard gauge locomotive in 1855 and until the final conversion nearly forty years later, Swindon gave birth to engines of both types.
In 1867 Swindon Works expanded still further when the company decided to build its new carriage and wagon works there, which was completed in 1868. The final conversion from broad to standard gauge took place with a mammoth feat of engineering on 21st and 22nd May, 1892 and thirteen extra miles of sidings were laid down as 195 locomotives, 748 carriages and 3,400 wagons and vans lined up for breaking up or conversion to the new gauge.
Expansion continued, with new locomotives being designed and the Works managed to get through WW1 and out the other side. 1920 saw what was probably the high point of the company, with the huge new ‘A’ shop being completed, covering 11.25 acres and employing 14,000 people.
George Jackson Churchward, Carriage and Wagon Superintendent (later Chief Mechanical Engineer in 1916), was succeeded by Charles Benjamin Collett (1921-1941) and Frederick William Hawksworth (1941-1949). The first Castle Class locomotives were built in 1923 (Caerphilly Castle, number 4073) but even these were overshadowed by the colossal King Class, the flagships of the GWR, of which King George V (number 6000), built in 1927, remains the most famous. The workhorse Hall Class locomotives followed in 1928 as the GWR in general and Swindon in particular enjoyed an international reputation for engineering excellence for the rest of the pre-Second World War period.
When Britain’s railways were nationalised on January, 1948, the GWR history ended. The final blast of the Works hooter sounded for the last time on 26th March, 1986.
In the 19th and most of the 20th Centuries, Shoreditch was
an industrial centre: printing, box-making, clothes, footwear
and haberdashery manufacture, leather chandlery and glass making
were major trades, and still have a presence today. But the
biggest employer by far was the furniture trade.
The Regent’s Canal was a living organ for transporting goods
to and from the area, into the middle of the last century.
And this brought timber, lots of timber, which made Shoreditch
the leading furniture making area in London up to about 30 years
ago. The City Sawmills in New North Road and the Eagle Saw Mills
in Wenlock Basin were the largest of several saw mills and timber
yards. With furniture making came a range of associated
specialist skills and suppliers of materials, such as fabrics,
iron and brass work, springs, locks and glass for doors.
Every type and quality of furniture was produced in Shoreditch.
In recognition of Shoreditch as the centre for furniture
production, the London County Council created the Technical
Institute in Pitfield Street in 1893, with courses in every
branch of furniture and upholstery manufacture and design.
It was the first of its kind in London.
Henry Tyzack, a sawmaker from Sheffield, set up shop in
Shoreditch in 1839. The Tyzack family had shops locally in
Old Street, New North Road and Kingsland Road (which remains)
selling a huge variety of tools used in woodworking and
other trades. Their main competitors were Parry’s.
The presence of these trades and products gave rise to a
whole generation of men who were fitters. People like
John Sawyer, who travelled the country as a fitter and joiner.
His father represented the prior generation of workers, having
a stall on the slim sliver of pavement known as ‘The Waste’ on
Kingsland Road . John took his father’s boxes of screws
to sell. Nobody went near them, so John mixed them up in
buckets and sold them at five shillings (25p) a handful.
The cost worked out about the same but the art was in the
psychology of the sale.
Notable large local companies include Goddard and Gibbs,
a spectacular stained glass factory in Kingsland Road.
The firm moved there in 1946 and made stained glass windows
for all over the world, winning the Queen’s Award for Industry.
It ran a successful apprentice scheme up to its move to
Stratford in the 1990s. Scandalously, the listed building
was bulldozed by the developer and Shoreditch lost one of
its finest industrial buildings.
Foxes specialised in safe installation and removal. Based
in Hoxton Square for about a century, it employed generations
of local people until moving in order to expand at the
beginning of this century. Less well known is that Shoreditch
became a centre for motor transport before mass production,
which required huge factories, took over. This followed
the local tradition of making horse transport and
cartage – cart making. There were also rubber works locally,
such as the Universal Rubber Company at 34-36 Kingsland Road,
to make tyres. Bespoke cars and vans were made in the days
before mass production, and Shoreditch could turn its hand
to anything. People from Shoreditch have formed their own
businesses, sometimes in retail, sometimes in local warehouses
or in manufacturing. Pat Murphy worked for his Uncle Ted
for a time. Ted was a gifted artist. He set up his own business
making intricate Christmas decorations in a factory in
Kingsland Road. Joyce Howes’ parents ran the newspaper stall
outside the London Apprentice in Old Street. Her mother’s
family came from Norfolk and had a tradition of working in
the royal households of Sandringham and Buckingham Palace.
But Joyce’s gran put a stop to that saying she was not
letting her daughter “work as a skivvy for nothing”. Joyce’s
father came to Shoreditch from Scotland in his teens to join
his brother. On arriving, he got his first ever footwear,
a pair of brown boots. For the rest of his life, he only
wore brown boots “so shiny you could see your face in them”.
He also wore brown suits. This earned him the nickname of
‘Brownie’ in Hoxton Street Market, which he’d walk through
People from Shoreditch have had successful careers in
all the fields. In early days, Edmund Halley, the Astronomer
Royal who identified and thus named Halley’s Comet, came
from Haggerston. Thomas Fairchild, ‘the Father of the
Flower Garden’, was the original city gardener. A nurseryman
and scientific botanist, he ran the equivalent of a modern
nursery and garden centre in Ivy Lane, Hoxton, in the
late 16oos and early 1700s. He was the first person to create
a hybrid plant known as Fairchild’s Mule. Although
few so illustrious, some of Shoreditch’s own have gone
into one of the fields of science. Betty’s brother, Jim,
went to night school and qualified as a Chartered Mechanical
Engineer. He travelled the world with his profession,
working for a large firm in the City. But for many, work
was often hard to find , and hard when found . Mark Brooks
wrote this poem, reflecting many a Shoreditch working life.
Birds sing at the close of a day
As the sun settles and the moon finds its own way
As one sits thinking of the past day
Over the boredom and drudgeries of living this way
Working, working, living day to day
No prospects of wealth or fame to come my way
But in my head, my dreams no one can take away
For at the close of each day
I shut my eyes and fly away
People would turn their hand to anything, and many were
constantly in and out of employment. There was little job
security. This was a pattern set from the earliest times:
in the furniture trade, a carpenter would get enough money
for timber for one chair, then hawk it round the warehouses
to sell it to make a little bit and buy more wood for the
next chair. If he didn’t sell it, the family didn’t
eat. Later, different components, such as the legs or seat,
of a chair would be made by one carpenter in his house
and then taken to the factory to put together. It could be
said that ducking and diving was, and is, a major Shoreditch
occupation. If local networks didn’t come up with anything,
people would walk round the streets looking for
‘help wanted’ signs.
Up to the 1960s, even skilled workers would have work
for maybe two or three days a week, then have to sign
on for the others. The furniture and rag trades especially
worked this way. Joyce Howes’ husband was a skilled presser,
but he was still ‘in and out of work like a yo-yo’, even
though the same tailor would have him back again and again
when there was a job on. They had just about enough money
to pay the rent and eat, but often had to rely on the
family to help out.
Youngsters would earn the odd penny or shilling doing odd
jobs in the markets, helping to clear up factories or
workshops, picking stray threads off clothes or helping to
deliver things. Those with parents doing piece work
(payment by the piece) at home would routinely help out –
stuffing envelopes, sewing, making things like crackers
or rosettes. Betty Kemp’s mother represents workers of
bygone times. She was a home worker making satin lined
chocolate boxes, which were a real work of art. Betty
recalls her mum melting chunks of glue in a black pot on
the range in their kitchen , before using small brushes to
glue and then construct the boxes which graced the very
best confectioners. One wonders in these health and safety
obsessed times what would be made of the bubbling glue
pot next to the Sunday roast!
Tom Carlow’s family’s employment was pretty typical. His
father was a French polisher, and then worked at Spitalfields
meat market. His mother did the same as Betty’s, trimming
boxes for a small, local firm. Sometimes, she went into
the workshop, other times she’d do the work at home, with
the family helping out. If Tom was home from school for
any reason, she might take him into work with her and
he’d help out gluing and trimming. The work suited a woman
with a young family, as she could vary the hours. Tom’s
brother worked as an engineer and his sister Flossie put
gold blocking on autograph books and photo albums.
Irene Cakebread’s father was a French polisher, while she
went to work for a local printer. When her firm moved to
Suffolk, she and her family were offered a house there. Her
father was keen to go, but her mother refused as she said
“there’s too much green”. Warehouses and factories along
the canal provided numerous jobs for local people, as well
as goods, both officially and unofficially. A printer on
the north side of the canal by Whitmore Bridge used
to print the Marvel comic. Local boys would go down each
week to be given a free copy.
Alan Shea ran both fruit and vegetable stalls and a shop
selling ‘pick and mix’ in Hoxton Street in the 1980s. He’d
get up at 1am to go to buy stock, make up orders, then
make deliveries to caterers as well as individual homes,
then set up the stall and serve all day, then do the
books and fall into bed at 9pm. And this was seven days
a week. He even went to farms in Essex to buy direct from
the farmers. Asked how he coped working all the hours,
he says ” I’d rather graft than do nothing”.
Of course, some jobs were not always legal. Crime featured
locally, as everywhere. There are those born in Shoreditch
whose careers have taken them to the wrong side of the law.
People talked about a particular group of women in the
1950s who would meet up to wait for their children at the
school gates. This group of women were always exquisitely
dressed , unlike the rest of the mothers waiting for
their broods. This was a cause for much discussion among
the other mothers. It transpired that one of these women
worked for Shirley Pitts, a local girl who hit the headlines
as the most successful shoplifter, possibly of all time.
The book of her life, ‘Gone Shopping’, tells all. Shirley
and her ‘girls ‘ focused their attention on big West End
Stores like Harrods but made ‘shopping’ expeditions as far
afield as Paris, Geneva and Berlin.
Born in 1934, Shirley had become the adult of the family
aged seven when her dad was sent to jail. To survive, she
started off by thieving bread from doorsteps and coal from
coal-carts. She died in 1992, and the most famous faces
of the criminal underworld were present at her funeral.
Even the Kray twins , who started off in Crondal Street,
sent their condolences. Fourteen ‘ Rollers ‘ accompanied
the coffin to the graveside and a huge floral tribute in
the shape of a Harrods bag carried the epitaph ‘Gone Shopping’.
She was buried in an expensive dress, specially stolen
for the occasion. Shirley wasn’t the first of her ilk.
Writing of her memories of 1910, the late Grace Blacketer
recalled a felon who stood out from the rest, one Dinkie,
a bookmaker’s widow. Dinkie worked ‘the Nile’, the
small market on Nile Street. She was far from dinkie
however, being a large corseted lump. Primarily she
was a moneylender, with a retinue of thugs to make sure
the loan repayments were kept up to date. Anyone seen
about with a broken limb was suspected of being ‘a dinkie’.
Dinkie could fix almost anything, at a price, including
people on the run . She could hide you , organise abortions
for unwanted pregnancies, and sort out any problems you
had, if you could afford her. When she died in the late
19th century she was reputedly worth half a million pounds.
Fictional crime, too, was a nice little earner for
some locals. Perhaps, not having to look far for role
models, people like George Sewell (1924-2007) brought
a villainous presence to television and cinema screens
for many years. Up to the age of thirty five, George
had an eclectic range of jobs, including working as
an assistant to a French roller-skating team. But a
chance meeting with actor Dudley Sutton in a pub set him
on the path to Joan Littlewood’s Theatre Workshop, and
thence on to celluloid fame in films like ‘Get Carter’
and TV series such as ‘Z Cars’. Given that he grew up
with England’s then premier film studios on his doorstep,
it’s in keeping that his career veered in that direction.
Gainsborough Studios, by the canal on Poole Road, started
off as a power station for the Metropolitan Electric Railway,
before becoming a centre of film-making from 1921. Silent
movies were made there, and then talkies. One film, ‘The
Camels are Coming’ had desert scenes filmed on the roof
which was covered with sand carried manually up and then
back down again . The Gainsborough Studio’s most famous
artist was Alfred Hitchcock, who started his career there
in the props department. It subsequently became a warehouse –
notably Kelaty’s, piled high with oriental carpets, in
the 1970s and 1980s. It has now been largely demolished
and re-built as flats. The new development has a giant
sculpture of Hitchcock’s head as its centrepiece.
With the Gainsborough Studios just around the corner, it
seemed natural when someone mentioned that Hitchcock’s
1935 film ‘The 39 Steps’ had been partly filmed in Hoxton
Hall. And Haggerston Park’s north gate features in the
1940s film ‘Odd Man Out’ with James Mason. Edie Murphy’s
mother and father were Pearly King and Queen. They appear
as themselves singing ‘Any Old Iron’ in the film
‘London Town’ with Kay Kendal. Local hardman, Lenny Mclean,
played Barry the Baptist in ‘Lock, Stock and Two Smoking
Barrels’. There is now even a film named ‘Shoreditch’,
made a couple of years back, starring Joely Richardson
and Shane Ritchie. Shoreditch continues to have significant
links with the film industry, from model making to animation.
Entertainers have left their mark down the centuries.
Shakespeare and his cronies may have been some of the first,
but they were certainly not the last to visit the area.
Other, more home grown, are familiar faces.
Published in 2009 by Shoreditch Trust, Shoreditch Tales by Carolyn Clark and Linda Wilkinson is written very much with the personal experiences of east end families in mind and contains many interesting stories and anecdotes. I’m very pleased that Carolyn Clark gave me permission to reproduce chapter eight, entitled ‘Work’, which for me was a most interesting insight into the furniture trades of Hackney. (Carolyn is currently doing a project on heritage of Regent’s Canal in Hackney and the buildings which line it. If you have anything about timberyards/factories etc, please contact her through the Shoreditch Tales website).
At the end of our high street, rather in contrast to the second hand shops, estate agents and fried chicken shops, you will find Sutton House.
It is a Tudor House, built in 1535 by prominent courtier of Henry VIII, Sir Ralph Sadleir. It has been home to merchants, Huguenot silkweavers, and squatters. Such is the history of Hackney.
The following story is written by Michael Shingfield. I got to know Michael when he enquired about some Griffiths memorabilia I had chanced upon. Michael has written an excellent book, (details at the end of the post), which is well worth buying if you are interested in Norwich’s history of tool makers.
I worked for the National Trust in their main Building Department in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, working my way up to be joinery workshop foreman.
One morning in 1990 a lorry pulled into our yard with a large load of oak panelling and tipped it all into a heap. This was our introduction to Sutton House.
Sutton House is the oldest house in the East End of London; an extremely rare example of a merchant’s brick house dating from Tudor times, round about 1530. The earliest recorded owner was Sir Ralph Sadleir, an important statesman in the service of Henry VIII.
When the last tenant left the property in the 1980s, the house was taken over by squatters who robbed the building of many architectural materials, including the panelling from four rooms, the main fireplaces and also the front door. These items were recognised in a salvage yard, which led to the recovery of much of the rest.
A group of local Hackney residents formed the Sutton House Society, and objected to plans to turn the house into flats and said the house should be for community use. The National Trust backed this idea and so then started on the task of restoring the house. The firm of Julian Harrap Architects, an East End practice were given the job and their architect Richard Griffiths was selected as project leader.
I met Richard on site and was given plans of the four panelled rooms that had been draw up before the squatters had moved in, along with new plans of the changes they wanted to make, such as new windows seats and radiator covers. We also had to repair or replace the window shutters and a few of the oak doors. The biggest job was the massive jigsaw puzzle of the panelling for the rooms, working out which panels rescued from the skip went where, looking for different moulding and design for clues.
My colleagues Keith Lambert, Den Bubb and I took on the task while the rest of the workshop kept the other joinery on the move. All the old oak was rubbed down and cleaned with a mixture of linseed oil and turpentine applied with steel wool. Where an old panel was too damaged to reuse or missing altogether, new panels of quarter sawn and through & through English oak were made and carved. The wood was then stained and polished to match the original panels.
The Great Chamber had lost all ten panels from over the fireplace and these consisted of a motif of roses and fleur-de-lys, luckily the house had been recorded and plans drawn up when it used to be known as Milford House, and we was fortunate enough to have a drawing to go by.
The National Trust paid for us to do evening classes in the winter at the local carving school, as remember joiners are not artyfarty, but Keith was a natural and did a lot of the intricate panels in the Great Chamber. Den and I also did a few, while we all worked on the linen fold panels that had to be created new.
We were fortunate as that Den was also an expert in staining wood. He had served his National Service aboard the Ark Royal and in his spare time would make and stain picture frames for sailors, who had had their photos taken by the ships photographer to send home to Mum.
Although the architect had requested that all the new panels were installed at ground level so that they could be hidden by the furniture, we actually mixed them in at all levels. Any of the best quality older panels were moved to eye level and the bad ones moved down to the floor, with our replacements filling the spaces. No one could tell the difference!
After sorting out the first room, off we went to fit on site leaving at six in the morning and retuning home at eight, this was done for a week before I could get the others to go into lodgings. On the first morning we arrived around eight in the morning and found our landlady who showed us the rooms and made a cup of tea, on returning to our van only to find it broken into and all our tools gone, a rude awakening to us old country boys.
On cleaning one room it was found that very thin panels had been pinned over early painted ones that resembled linen fold, these were cleaned and left on show. In all the oak rooms you will find hinged panels that you can open to look and see the history of the old building.
English Heritage surveyed the house and it was very interesting to watch them work out the hidden features of the house. In the Georgian room they asked me to cut out some of the pine panelling only to find a Tudor fireplace as they suspected. A lot of lovely original fireplaces and window openings were opened up this way.
We were all very pleased to have been involved with Sutton House and after serving twenty five years with the National Trust I took early retirement. I look back with pride at some of the work I have left behind.
NORWICH TOOL MAKERS & Tool Dealers
The fine city of Norwich has had a rich history of planemakers and dealers. Michael Shingfield’s in-depth study has resulted in this well researched book which reveals much hitherto unknown information on the makers and journeymen employed in this important trade, and especially of the noted planemaking family of Griffiths who were in business for over 150 years.
Priced £10 + p.p £1.50, £3.50 overseas.
The book is A5 size consisting of over 100 pages with many of the pages having coloured photographs.
Michael Shingfield, 61 High Street, Heacham, Norfolk, PE31 7DW email@example.com
Can anyone please help me find out what this glorious-looking tool shop is on the right hand side of this picture? The picture was originally posted by @joeflanagan1 on Twitter. He posts some really beautiful pictures from 19thc London.
The picture is from around 1890, and it shows a few young ne’er-do-wells hanging around to relieve someone of the contents of their pockets. All well and good. But look to the right, a line of lovely braces, and on the window it mentions cabinet makers and tools.
The street is Cock Lane, (yes, if you’re already tittering, I know). If you think that’s funny, London street names get a lot worse.
The shop may well be fronting onto the adjacent street, I don’t know, it does appear to be No.25 though.
I really hope someone might be able to help, this really does look like a shop from the glory days.
Update: Quite a few people have been in touch with ideas. @peteri tweeted
@HackneyTools @joeflanagan1 are you sure this is cock lane(this is the giltspur end (link) nothing in trade directories too
The link shows this great-looking pub below, the ‘Fortune of War’. This pub does show the ‘Cock Lane’ sign on it’s wall high up there on the left. It also shows the Golden Boy Statue, mentioned by Bill Johnson, (below, in the comments section).
I’ve reproduced the map showing the area at the time, from the Pepys Small Change website. (Click to enlarge).
So, I’m still unable to find the name of the shop opposite the building in both of these pictures. I’m going to contact the excellent Bishopsgate Institute in London. If they manage to unearth anything, I will post the results.
Update: Stefan Dickers, the Library and Archives Manager at Bishopsgate Institute got back to me (and on Christmas Eve too, what a gent!). Thanks Stefan.
I’ve had a quick look for you (as we’re only open for a couple of hours today) and there was a Daniel Lovett, Carpenter, operating at 25 Cock Lane in 1894. The address then seems to disappear from the trade directories. There is also a different business operating at the address 10 years earlier which doesn’t really back up the ‘established 100 years’ claim in the window. Hmmm…
I’ll have a bit more of a dig in the New Year but I hope that’s of some interest.
Will follow this up in the new year, in the meantime will have to see if I can find more on this Lovett chap, as the ‘L’ on the main sign matches, so it could well be him, I guess.