CabbieBlog

Walled in Waldorf

When you are the richest man in America and require an office – and somewhere to house your mistress – you need something just a little palatial, and that is exactly what William Waldorf Astor did in 1892 when he commissioned John Louthborough Pearson to design 2 Temple Place.

Astor had inherited a fortune some $100 million (over 2.5 billion today) on the death of his father in 1890 and after a family row declared America “was no longer a place where a gentleman could live”, a remark for which his countrymen never forgave him.

After buying the Cliveden Estate (later of Christine Keeler fame) and fearing for the safety of his family he blocked access to the land, prompting the sobriquet “Waldorf by name walled off by nature”. He would later buy Hever Castle in Kent and again ever mindful of security would banish visitors at night from the castle and raise its drawbridge. On another occasion he asserted to Lady Warwick that were he to pull a lever beside his chair every door in 2 Temple Place would close and she could not possible get out without his permission, as rather alarming prospect as she later recorded in her memoirs.

Astor’s mild paranoia with security was to our benefit. For his office – he did after all own a house in the more fashionable Carlton House Terrace one mile away – is built in the Gothic style of the late Victorian period. It looks like a fortified house from the outside, with a golden weathervane on its roof, a copy of Christopher Columbus’ ship the Santa Maria.

But it’s when you enter the house that you are in for a treat. “Hello there, yes the entrance is free and our exhibition of William Morris has a 72-page catalogue, if you would care to borrow it. The cafe and toilets are on your left around the corner”. Amazing when did you ever get a greeting like that in an art gallery, or see at the foot of the stairs the largest floral display of amaryllis outside the Royal Horticultural Society?

On the interior of the house no expense was spared by Astor, no flight of fancy too grand, this is Victorian over-embellishment taken to the highest level. Panels featuring Shakespearian themes, Arthurian knights and what must be a pair of the finest Victorian stained glass windows in London.

Now after a succession of corporate owners the Bulldog Trust, a charity who aims to inspire others into philanthropy has purchased Astor House the ex-office of one of England’s greatest charitable donors. Astor himself took up British citizenship and was give a peerage for his charitable benefactions.

The Bulldog Trust intends to open its doors every year to house exhibitions. At the moment transferred from Walthamstow is the William Morris collection which finishes at the end of the month. Beautifully presented and rated 2nd best by Time Out. Who said of Astor House:

“Lavish, quite bonkers . . . and rather endearing . . . “

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Suicidal bakers

Topped by what looks like a flaming Christmas pudding, this, the tallest isolated stone column in the world, stands 202ft high and although obscured by office buildings, the Shard being the latest, can still offer commanding views of The City. If you have the energy, and it must be said, the courage to ascend its 311 steps the view is spectacular from the top of London’s Monument.

You climb up inside the column with just a thin, worn handrail to prevent your rapid descent until you arrive at the viewing platform. This was once a favourite spot for people wishing to commit suicide who had a head for heights. There must be something about kneading dough, or the fact that as a result of a nearby baker’s oven the City was consumed by fire, that has made this ledge the launch pad of choice for suicidal bakers. Six unfortunates have committed suicide by jumping from the top of the Monument and three had associations with baking; John Cradock in 1788; a man named Leander in 1810; and Margaret Moyes a daughter of a baker in 1839. This knead to end one’s life stopped in 1842 when a cage was inserted over the platform.

James Boswell – Dr. Johnson’s biographer – came here in 1762 to climb to what was then the highest viewpoint in London. Half-way up he suffered a panic attack, but he persevered and made it to the top, where he found it “horrid to be so monstrous a way up in the air, so far above London and all its spires”.

Poor Boswell didn’t have the incentive that you now have of receiving a certificate for your efforts when you reach terra firma. But as you receive the proof of completing your ascent at the bottom of the column, there is no check of your bravery in having reached the very top.

The Monument stands on the site of St. Margaret’s Church in Fish Street, the first church lost to the Great Fire of London; the column stands 202ft high and 202ft from the seat of the fire in Pudding Lane which in 1666 destroyed four-fifths of the City.

It was designed by Christopher Wren and Robert Hooke who had wanted to use its hollow centre to suspend a pendulum for scientific experiments, but the vibrations from the heavy traffic on Fish Hill made the conditions unsuitable. During the construction they also used it as a fixed telescope, again with unsatisfactory results.

The architects originally wanted to surmount the column with a phoenix (embodying the motto of London (of which we, alas seldom use): “Resurgem” – “I am reborn”, this was abandoned in favour of a colossal statue of King Charles II. But the Monarch pointed to the fact that he didn’t start the fire, so why should he be plonked on top of the monument which commemorates its origins. So a golden flaming Christmas pudding it was.

Lastly, one curious incident happened during the Blitz. On 9th September 1940 one of the first heavy high-explosive bombs to fall on the City landed in King William Street, almost exactly 202ft from the Monument the same distance to the west as our culprit bakery was to the north.

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London’s top secret tower

If I had written this post 18 years ago it is quite possible that MI5 would want to talk to me. It’s hardly the stuff of John le Carré but from the day it was built until Kate Howie MP, speaking in Parliament on 19th February 1993 spilt the beans by announcing to the public, and I quote:

Hon. Members have given examples of seemingly trivial information that remains officially secret. An example that has not been mentioned, but which is so trivial that it is worth mentioning, is the absence of the British Telecom tower from Ordnance Survey maps. I hope that I am covered by parliamentary privilege
when I reveal that the British Telecom tower does exist and that its address is
60 Cleveland Street, London (Hansard col.632).

The 621 foot high BT Tower was Britain’s most poorly kept secret. Londoners were expected to not notice its presence, in fact for many years it did not appear on any map as its location was protected by the Official Secrets Act, even the taking and storing photographs of the building was forbidden.

In a further secret twist Londoners seem to have been unaware of the changes that have recently been undertaken above their heads as engineers removed the 31 microwave dishes, once used to transmit top secret data across a nationwide network of similar towers. Right up until the 1980s, the microwave network was responsible for transmitting television signals and other data – some of it military. The arrangement comprised of a link of transmitters, stretched across the United Kingdom from north to south; with towers similar to the London GPO erected in Birmingham (at Snow Hill) and Manchester (in Heaton Park).

Being extremely secure, the system was also known by the codename, “Backbone” and, in the event of a nuclear attack, the resilient network would have provided vital communications for the government.

The tower is mostly circular because the designers noted that the only buildings that survived in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were round, with the shape allowing the enormous blast wave to surge round them. But considering the searing heat and 500mph blast wave unleashed by a nuclear weapon, it is doubtful that any buildings (or indeed people) would have been left standing.

The tower was conceived in the 1950s when broadband microwave technology seemed the best way serve the growing communication needs of the nation. It was designed to exchange microwave radio signals with other similar towers in locations such as Birmingham, Bristol and Portsmouth. Built in a yard off an existing telephone exchange, it was quite a neat engineering feat. A borehole survey revealed the hard chalk suitable for supporting foundations was 174 feet down, too far to be practically used. Instead an 88 foot square concrete “raft” was placed some 26 feet below street level, supporting a seven metre tall flat topped concrete pyramid, which in turn supported a hollow concrete shaft that forms the core of the tower. Even in 100mph winds it will not sway more than 7.4 inches. Swaying isn’t good for microwave transmission especially in a nuclear holocaust.

In 1962 the GPO Tower (as it was then known) overtook St. Pauls Cathedral as London’s tallest building, that title was briefly snatched away by the newly constructed Millbank Tower which took less time to build, but was regained when completed. It held that record until 1980 when the NatWest Tower (now renamed Tower 42) rose above the City skyline.

Known formerly as the General Post Office Tower its presence (or at least its purpose) might have remained a secret but for the fact of a restaurant which revolved every 22 minutes on the 34th floor which was operated by the holiday camp king Billy Butin. By 1971 the tower had been visited by over 5 million people, it only closed in 1980 amid security fears after a bomb had exploded in the gent’s toilet one night causing extensive damage which took two years to repair.

In defiance of the prohibitions placed upon acknowledging its presence it has appeared in BBC’s Doctor Who the War Machines which curiously does have a “D” Notice slapped on it as the YouTube clip has now been withdrawn by the BBC. The tower has been a popular backdrop to science fiction films among others V for Vendetta, The Fog, The New Avengers episode Sleeper, The Day of the Triffids and Harry Potter flies over it in a Ford Anglia. But the all time favourite the tower is featured in the most famous scene in The Goodies when it is toppled over by Twinkle the Giant Kitten in the episode Kitten Kong.

London’s secret tower is based upon an original post by Charlie on Cold War London.

CabbieBlog is published regularly under a Creative Commons License by a London Black Cab Driver. Powered by WordPress.com.
Take a look round, you might like what you find. Proudly supporting the National Trust protecting England’s heritage and coast.