2015

In 1902 work began to construct the Waring and Gillow Department Store. The architect was R. Frank Atkinson. This building is described by architectural historian, Pevsner, as "riotous Hampton Court baroque." Waring and Gillow had a long history. First as separate entities: Warings was from Liverpool and began in the mid 19th century whilst Gillows was from Lancashire and started even earlier in the 1760s. They were at the upper end of the furniture market and by the late 19th century both had showrooms in London. The two companies began a loose association in 1897 and merged to become Waring & Gillow in 1903. The first part of their new Oxford Street store opened in 1906 with the western part on Oxford Street and into Great Titchfield Street opening in 1933. There is an interesting touch at the corners. Not initials like at Bourne and Hollingsworth but a sculptural ship’s prow. Perhaps this is a reference to the fact that Gillow did a lot of work providing furnishings for ocean going liners.

This building at 120 Oxford Street was once home to the Bourne and Hollingsworth Department Store. That company closed its doors in 1983 and subsequently the building was converted into the Plaza Shopping Centre. According to Wikipedia, "Bourne and Hollingsworth was a large department store on the corner of Oxford Street and Berners Street. It was named after its founders, Walter William Bourne and Howard E Hollingsworth, brothers in law, who started the store in Westbourne Grove as a drapery store in 1894. The store then moved to the Oxford Street site in 1902 (built in 1894) due to competition with Whiteleys, and by 1928 the store had been remodelled (by Slater & Moberley in the Art Deco style. Bourne and Hollingsworth became renowned for selling the best quality goods and for looking after their staff, providing accommodation at Warwickshire House on Gower Street for up to 600 female workers. Like much of Oxford Street, the store suffered bomb damage in 1940, however today much of the art deco facade still survives." The sculpture on the facade of the Plaza replaced the clock that was mounted there originally. It is known as "Dancer with Ribbon" created by Michael Rizzello and is apparently based on / inspired by the ballet dancer Darcey Bussell.

The site was once home to London’s rock’n roll mecca, the Marquee Club. The Marquee Club was a music venue first located at 165 Oxford Street, London, England when it opened in 1958 with a range of jazz and skiffle acts. In March 1964 the club moved a short distance to what became its most famous venue at 90 Wardour Street. Here, almost every major rock band of note played over the next 25 years on the tiny stage. Residencies during the late 1960s alone included Alexis Korner, Cyril Davies, Chris Barber, The Rolling Stones, The Yardbirds, Led Zeppelin, The Who, King Crimson, The Syn, Yes, Jethro Tull, The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Pink Floyd (who played on Sunday afternoons as part of the Spontaneous Underground club). Another band that made regular appearances was The Manish Boys featuring David Bowie, who first played there in November 1964; and Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac gave their first performance there in 1967. To find out who was playing on any given night, you could just call in at the 'Ship' pub a few doors away. In 1964 Moody Blues manager/producer Alex Murray used a homemade studio in the garage at the back of the club to produce the classic "Go Now" single, which shot to No. 1 at Christmas 1964, and filmed for it the first ever UK pop promo video. The development of Marquee Studios was largely financed by profits from this record. The studio was later used by Elton John, The Groundhogs, The Clash and others. The Rolling Stones, who first appeared at the club in January 1963, returned there on 26 March 1971 after an eight-year hiatus to film a television special. Another TV special also filmed at the club, two years later in September 1973, was David Bowie's The 1980 Floor Show, screened as part of NBC's The Midnight Special. The Faces performed there on 7 December 1970.

Wong Kei is a Chinese restaurant in London’s Chinatown, once described as "the rudest restaurant in London". It was one of the largest Chinese restaurants in the UK with seating for around 500 diners. Wong Kei was once known for the rudeness of its staff, who would shout "Sit down with them!" or "Go upstairs!" to arriving patrons, insult customers who asked for a knife and fork, and chase those who failed to leave a sufficient tip. This aspect was seen as a positive and enjoyable feature rather than a criticism of the restaurant. After a renovation, the restaurant reopened in 2001 with friendlier waiters, and when it reopened under new management in March 2014, new owner Daniel Luc said: "Maybe there was an issue with rude staff 20 to 30 years ago, but I don’t think so any more. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not." The restaurant is situated at 41–43 Wardour Street, in a building previously owned by Willy Clarkson (1861–1934), a theatrical wig maker and costumier, as attested by the 1966 blue plaque on the façade. The building was designed by the architect H. M. Wakeley in a mixed Baroque and Art Nouveau style; Sarah Bernhardt laid the foundation stone for the building in 1904 and Sir Henry Irving laid the coping stone in 1905. Clarkson’s was there from 1905 to 1940.

Originally part of the ancient bridleway between Charing Cross and the North, Upper St Martin’s Lane has been a feature of London’s maps for longer than anyone can remember. Indeed it is identified on the route of the mourning cavalcade that Edward I took in the 1290s in honour of his cherished Eleanor of Castile. The name of Upper St Martin’s Lane was only adopted in the 1860s, before then it had been known (rather unfortunately) as Cock Passage. The previous, awkward name came from the Cock & Pye Inn which stood here for many years. As with almost all animals in historic pub names, the cock is a reference to bloodsports. By today’s standards, cockfighting was a barbaric and grotesque spectacle, indeed Lorenzo Magalotti (b. 1637 and widely considered Europe’s first leisure tourist) wrote of his experience at the tavern: "Often when one [of the cocks] appears vanquished and near death, it recovers such wonderful vigour that it jumps on the stronger one and kills it… And then with the little breath remaining to him, flaps his wings and crows his victory, after which, he himself, also abandons himself to death." As well as a spectacle for bloodthirsty patrons, the Cock & Pye ran a haphazard gambling book where astronomical sums of money were wagered on the outcome of the fights. Around the same time, another fixture of Upper St Martin’s Lane was the Bermudian George Starkey, an eminent "scientist" and the tutor of the young Isaac Newton. Biographers cannot prove that Starkey lived on this street but he was certainly a frequent visitor and his various publications were sold by the street vendors under the pseudonym Eirenæus Philalethes. His goal in life was to discover an, or the, alcahest (a magical elixir which could dissolve gold and thereby cure all human ailments). In the 17th Century, much of "science" was tantamount to pseudo-religious alchemy, a more accurate job description might be Sorcerer. Starkey would invoke sacred relics (so as not to court blasphemy) and potter about with various impure chemicals. Whether or not he was a great scientist is disputable but he was certainly skilled in self-promotion. It is mankind’s greatest woe that Starkey died just as he was on the verge of presenting his alcahest; ironically he was done for by the Great Plague of 1665. For many years Upper St Martin’s Lane was the destination for those wanting to buy a horse. Aldridge’s Horse Bazaar operated from here throughout the 19th century and offered docile palfreys for women of refinement and robust beasts of burden for brewers. Indeed the only kind of horses not traded here were thoroughbreds. Aldridge’s Bazaar occupied the location which is now the incongruous but towering presence of Orion House. Here buyers and merchants could inspect livestock and, every Wednesday until 1926, auctions were held here while the rest of the street would come to a standstill until business was complete. Before the advent of emergency automobiles, it was traditional for ambulance and fire horses to be grey, so such gallant beasts commanded a healthy premium at Aldridge’s. In more recent years, Upper St Martin’s Lane has been known for its restaurants. One that some readers may remember is Lennon’s which was opened here in the 1980s by Cynthia Lennon, John’s first wife. The menu featured punning dishes such as ‘Rubber Sole’ and ‘Sergeant Pepper Steak’ but the quality of food was said to be poor and Cynthia’s venture soon failed. More recently still was the IRA bomb which exploded inside the gents’ toilets of the Sussex Arms in October 1992 blowing out the windows. In the aftermath of this lunchtime attack, one man lost his life and four other customers had to be admitted to hospital. The last word on the history of Upper St Martin’s Lane is a cautionary tale for those who might be tempted to steal little pots of jam or shampoo sachets from hotels. In 1814, Sarah Dale stayed at the Cross Keys Inn on the street and took a fancy to her bedsheet; deciding it to be very much nicer than any she owned, Dale tucked it up into her petticoats and checked out. However, the owner discovered this heinous crime and alerted none other than the Lord Mayor of London, Samuel Birch. The game was up for Sarah and she was brought to the old Bailey where the judge decreed that she be confined to Newgate for a year. The statute by which Dale was imprisoned still exists in law so, next time you are tempted by a dainty souvenir from a hotel stay, maybe think twice.

One of the oldest pubs in London, the Lamb & Flag was once known as the Bucket of Blood, thanks to the bare-knuckle fights held here. It was a favourite watering hole of Charles Dickens. As you step inside the narrow pub which habitually bursts at the seams with hoards of local workers and shoppers – it’s easy to imagine a time when this place was filled with London’s rowdy residents jostling for space at the bar or packing out the ancient settles. A noticeable lack of chairs and tables downstairs results in drinkers thronging in front of the bar or squeezing into nooks and crannies much like they would have done when it was first opened. If you want a bit of space, fight your way through and wind your way up the creaking staircase to a larger roomier upstairs bar named the Dryden Bar, after the poet, John Dryden, who was allegedly "nearly done to death" in the alleyway next to the pub. The incident happened late at night on 18 December, 1679 when Dryden was returning from Will’s Coffee House in Bow Street to his lodgings in long Acre. As today, Rose Street was a dark and secluded place. It is thought that the assault by three men was paid for by the earl of Rochester, who believed that Dryden had satirized him in a recent publication. However, a painted plaque in the narrow passageway next to the Lamb and Flag suggests that the instigator of the attack was the duchess of Portsmouth. Be that as it may, the culprits were never caught, despite the offer of a £50 reward (a considerable sum in those days).