Sydenham in the twenties, part 2.

[regoneil]

Transport:
Motor transport was still in its infancy and horses took priority in conveying our goods and ourselves from here to there. As one can see from the various views of Cobbs Corner depicted in so many posts, there was a cab rank outside the Greyhound provided by the late Jimmy Welch and his father, before him. Visitors arriving at Sydenham station would hire a cab to deliver them to their destination, or, if so inclined, they could ”jump on a bus”, which one could do in those days as there was no need for speed limits as the speed of the buses was very limited. (As a matter of interest, there was a speed limit for all commercial vehicles of 20 m.p.h. all over the U.K. until the mid 1960’s).
There were four bus routes serving the area during this period, there was the Number 2a which started at the “George” in Catford terminating at Golders Green going via Sydenham, Bell Green, Crystal Palace, Norwood etc.
The 12, which started at Croydon, “Red Deer”, via Penge, Lawrie Park, Kirkdale, Forest Hill Westminster to Park Royal.
There was the 75 which started at Woolwich Free Ferry, via Catford, Sydenham, Penge to Croydon, “Swan & Sugar Loaf”.
The Number 112, which started from Bell Green, via Perry Rise, Forest Hill, Dulwich on to East Acton. Via Westminster.
All were run by the General Omnibus Company with the exception of the 75 which was operated by Tilling Stevens Co. (As a matter of interest, “Tillings” had a farm located at the summit of Perry Hill on the east side, opposite “Butlers Wharf Sports ground”. In the days of horse buses, the horses were stabled there, and, I believe, they exercised the Fire Brigade horses by relieving the bus horses.)
The early motor buses were open topped with access to the upper deck by means of a curved staircase situated at the rear; the seats on the top deck were not upholstered but were protected from inclement weather by canvas covers that stretched over to protect the seats. Likewise, the driver also had a canvas sheet to cover his lower parts from the rain as there was no windscreen provided in those days. he just sat there exposed to the elements suitably clad in weather proof clothing, cap and gloves and goggles to protect his eyes. The interior was more comfortable with upholstered seating. I can well remember being taken by my mother to visit relatives in Plumstead, and travelling on a 75 to Woolwich, sitting with my head pressed against the window as I watched the passing scenery and feeling the vibration coming through from the effects of the engine coupled with that of the ef the solid tyres as they ground over the surface of the road..
To board these buses one had to negotiate a couple of steep steps onto the rear platform, invariably with the assistance of a kindly conductor if one was aged or infirm, then a step up into the interior of the lower deck. The conductor would station himself in the alcove beneath the stairs where he kept all his equipment in a small box on a shelf, which also provided up to date copies of the bus maps for the whole of London, “free” for the taking, (How many Londoners learned their geography of their city, as school kids, from these maps?) as well as space to accommodate light luggage.
Hanging close by to this position would be a cord from which he, the conductor, would relay information to his driver as to when to start or stop the bus. This was attached to a bell behind the driver and one ring would mean “stop” and two would tell him to proceed. The cord would travel through eyelets through the centre of the bus to enable passengers to give it a pull if they wanted to stop to alight. The upper deck was fitted with a metal rod at the rear topped by a brass mushroom shaped top which was connected to the cord fitting below; an invitation was engraved on it to press to stop the bus. Should the conductor be busy collecting fares on the top deck, he would instruct the driver by stamping his foot on the floor to indicate his instruction. The conductor’s tools of his trade were a strong leather pouch to hold the money and a wooden ticket holder containing the various value tickets, a square metal punch machine with which he would punch against the destination printed on the ticket. Amongst his bits and pieces and his box was a clip board with which he would carry across to a time machine attached to a wall at various sites en route where he would “clock in” as proof that his bus was running on time. There was one such situated by the “Two Brewers” pub just over the summit of Perry Hill...
Buses in those days all had, not only its destination shown on the front as well as the back, but a list of all points that it called at. One could see if one “had missed the bus”. by the number and destination clearly on view at the back, which is difficult in this day and age.
There was a warning printed in each bus saying that the penalty for spitting on the bus was £5, the same penalty warning on trams was 50 shillings. Class distinction? (Trams offered fares of fourpence all the way).
Later in the twenties, things began to change and buses began to have roofs to protect them and pneumatic tyres, I well remember a bus shed its roof by going under the first railway bridge in Penge by mistake. The fare from Bell Green to the “Pawlene Arms” at Penge was two pence (2d) as it still remained in 1946. (4d to Croydon). One other point of interest is that bus stops were not sign posted at that time and there was no queuing at the stops, one just took one’s turn. In fact, I feel certain that the habit of forming a queue was introduced during WW2 when it became the norm to form queues for most everything

[Ulysses]

Another excellent post regoneil. I have already read it twice. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Thank you, for this and part 1.

I had to laugh at your mention of queues in your final sentence. I caught a program on radio4 recently in which the guest stated that we British are fantastic examples of a Western Country that would do well under Communism...

Bear with me, he had a point.

Our fondness for queueing [?]. Thrift and the parsimonious upbringing. Belief in the collective - actually I can't really remember WHAT his points were off-hand but I did find myself nodding along. I'll try and find a recording of it online.

It was certainly a little bit more than the ability to form a queue when none need exist!

Anyway, thank you again.

Quick question. You appear to hail from the Bell Green area-ish. On one of my walks around Sydenham recently I happened upon something that looked like an old factory or warehouse on the corner of Champion Road where it meets Champion Crescent...any idea what that was?

[Steve Grindlay]

I'm really intrigued, Ulysses. Can you be more precise about the location of this "old factory". One side of Champion Road is mostly a modern housing estate and the other is late Victorian terraced housing. You're surely not thinking of St Michael's school.

[Ulysses]

Oh my. I'm unsure of what mine eyes have seen now Mr Grindlay.

I hope Mr O'Neil [correct use of apostrophe Sir?] will not mind me mentioning but he has already mailed me to suggest the same place as your good self.

I must admit I was walking briskly past but something set me in mind of a commercial application rather than an academic one...

Therefore, during my lunch break tomorrow I am heading out with a camera and will take a picture.

I do hope it is not blatantly obvious that I was looking at a school. It put me in mind though more of a railway-siding warehouse than a late Victorian school...

I think/hope!

[Ulysses]

OK, sorry...

Thanks to the new improved Google Earth I was able to ascertain 'it' is at 12 Champion Crescent, so on the corner-ish of Burghill Road and Champion Crescent.

My apologies.

I can see quite clearly the St Michael's School now. Sorry. Wrong directions on my part.

As for regoneil - I am not sure how fast your connection is [typical London view of Walton-On-The-Naze I am afraid] but if you can download Google Earth and click into the pictures you can have a bit of a tour of your old stomping ground...I do hope the sights of some of your old haunts are not too upsetting as I fear that part of Sydenham has been a bit down on it's luck for a little time. Certainly not in it's entirety but some of the 'quaintness' you knew may be needing to return...

[regoneil]

Hi Steve and Ulyssis.
May I draw your attention to Post posted: 22 Mar 2009 13:18 Post subject: Hello? Is there anyone out there?? Lurkers come forth.. as you will see I am wallowing in a tour of my old home town thanks to google maps street view.
Thanks also for your kind remarks, most encouraging, but can someone tell me is there still a school of St. Michaels?

[regoneil]

Hi Steve and Ulysses.
May I draw your attention to Post posted: 22 Mar 2009 13:18 Post subject: Hello? Is there anyone out there?? Lurkers come forth.. as you will see I am wallowing in a tour of my old home town thanks to google maps street view.
Thanks also for your kind remarks, most encouraging, but can someone tell me is there still a school of St. Michaels?

[Steve Grindlay]

Oh yes, Reg, it's still there and thriving, apparently.

[bensonby]

OK, sorry...

Thanks to the new improved Google Earth I was able to ascertain 'it' is at 12 Champion Crescent, so on the corner-ish of Burghill Road and Champion Crescent.
.

you don't mean the 45 year old building site do you?



here: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&sourc ... 9999999985

[Ulysses]

The link appears not to work any longer for some reason but I viewed it last night and it did seem to be that place.

It's just that as it was in red brick I assumed it HAD been something and was now ramshackle rather than it having NEVER been anything in the first place.

It does look like a gust of wind might blow it over and it's a bit of an eye-sore.

[bensonby]

It does look like a gust of wind might blow it over and it's a bit of an eye-sore.

it is a bit of an eye saw. But I'm used to it now...it has, after all, been like that since at least the 60s. The story is that the chap who owns it (lives next door, and now in his 70/80s) went bust but still has planning permission for it. Apparently the planning permission remains valid so long as "work" is done on it.....he or his son still pop up for a couple of days every summer and do a bit of hammering. So, apparently, it seems its all legit and nothing can be done about it.

[regoneil]

During this decade, children had none of the current manufactured pastimes to occupy their leisure hours away from school, so much was left to their own imagination and adeptness to fill these hours and so, many games were invented, many of them to play on the streets, which due to the lack of traffic apart from the odd horse and cart, was quite a safe area and a very popular playground. Children could be left to play safely in the streets with only the occasional event of one falling and grazing a knee or two. For some reason or other, my experience of running and falling flat on my face always resulted in two grazed knees and a bloody nose, it took me a long time to learn to use my arms to break a fall.
Many street games were conducted, usually in an area bordered by two lamp posts and chalked diagrams would be seen covering the road surface, such as “Hop Scotch” layouts. Of course, lamp posts were designed to be climbed and the bar, used for resting a ladder for the maintenance man, would be used for acrobatic swinging.
These lamp posts became an important part of the games procedure as we would be instructed by parents that we could play until the Lamp-lighter came along to turn on the gas. I can recall that there was a popular poem taught at school entitled “The Lamp-Lighter”. the words of which, I have long forgotten.
One highlight of games in the road was the annual spring road maintenance activity when the surface would be re-tarred, to the delight of all us kids. The first indication would be the sudden appearance of heaps of gravel spaced every two yards or so along both pavements, a challenge for us to run and try to jump from one heap to another. Of course the gravel had been delivered from a horse and cart which gave us for-warning of the great event of the next day when the tar engine would arrive, probably, the highlight of the year as we all gathered to watch the proceedings.
The Tar engine can only be described as a copy of Stevenson’s “Rocket”, that is what it looked like, pulled by a horse, smoke billowing out of it’s tall chimney, whilst a barrel of solid tar was hoisted up by a small crane to rest on top of the tank above the fire box beneath, to melt the tar, which ultimately would be sprayed onto the road surface by a man suitably clad with protective clothing and a mask as he distributed the tar from one side of the road to the other in big swinging movements, smoke from the tar and the fire drifting everywhere, but, the smell of the tar was, to us, wonderful and quite overwhelming, especially if one had a cough, it certainly would clear that.
Once the tar had been spread so the performance of spreading the gravel evenly over the surface began and to watch the men swing their shovels in a sweeping movement as the gravel spread evenly over the tar, was a ballet in itself, accompanied to the music of the shovels scraping up the gravel and the swish of the gravel leaving the shovel to fall on the road.
That was not the end as shortly after, the finale would commence, as along would come a steam roller, usually an “Invictor” with the insignia of a rearing horse (symbol of Kent) on its front, This would steam up and down the road setting in the new surface amidst clouds of pure white steam as in contrast of the black stuff of the tar engine.
The following day, the lads who owned bikes would play “dirt-track” racing, skidding in the loose gravel to the annoyance of the residents. This annual celebration was to come to an end in the early thirties when a big steam wagon would replace the horse drawn machine and it would slowly make its was down a road spraying automatically as it was followed by another lorry spreading the gravel.. Apparently, these machines came from a place called Glossop, so it stated on the vehicles. Where is Glossop? Well we looked it upon the map at school and it was a long way from Sydenham.

[Gaz]

Brilliant stuff, Reg. A great read, as ever.

[jackieboo]

If only there was a fine for spitting still.

[regoneil]

Just another memory of the 20s/30s :
A regular sight in those days was the daily delivery of "Cat meat" by Pussy's Butcher named "Standen" from Stanstead Road, who made a daily delivery on his trade bicycle to the cat popuilation in the local area,.
I took pity on "whisky" a black and white cat, 36" long from nose to end of his tail. He was rescued from a west end hotel who were cutting down on their cat population. He took to his new home very quickly but, he had been accustomed to a diet of chicken scraps. and would eat nothing else. We discovered the Pussy Butcher solved this problem and that every afternoon, the cat would wait on the doormat waiting for his ration to appear through the letterbox.
Soon, our dog realised what was going on, so too took up a position beside the cat to get his ration.
Just another memory from the period that was free of the hurley burley rushing around of the present era.. Things were unhurried in those days,, it may have been forgotten that there was a speed limit of TWENTY Miles an hour on all commercial vehicles until the late 50's
There was no need for radio reports of hold-ups as there is today.