The Worst Street in London: Foreword by Peter Ackroyd (10 page)

‘The amiable and deservedly popular minister of a district church, built among the lodging houses, has stated that he has found 29 human beings in one apartment and that having with difficulty knelt down between two beds to pray with a dying woman, his legs became so jammed that he could hardly get up again. Some of the lodging houses are of the worst class of low brothels, and some may even be described as brothels for children... At some of the busiest periods, numbers sleep on the kitchen floor... a penny is saved to the lodger by this means. More than 200 have been accommodated in this way in a large house.’

The Spitalfields common lodging houses catered for three major types of customer: those too ill or old to work, those too lazy to work and the common criminal. Consequently, the day-to-day running of them was not a job for the faint-hearted. Generally, lodging house proprietors employed a ‘deputy’ whose job it was to make sure that all inmates had paid for their beds and a ‘night watchman’, who acted as a bouncer, keeping unwanted individuals away. Both the deputy and the night watchman had to possess the ability to throw out anyone who could not pay for their bed, regardless of their situation. As this often meant ejecting pregnant women and sick, elderly persons, knowing full well that they would have to sleep rough, it can be assumed that lodging house employees did not possess much of a conscience.

The lodging house proprietors possessed even less concern for their fellow man. In addition to allowing desperate people to sleep in disgusting conditions, they made more money from their pathetic customers by seizing the local monopoly on essentials such as bread, soap and candles, which they sold on to lodgers at hugely inflated prices. Detective Sergeant Leeson, who patrolled the Spitalfields area in the late-19th century, wrote of the common lodging houses, ‘the landlords of these places...are to my mind, greater criminals than the unfortunate wretches who have to live in them.’

In addition to the wretched lodging houses, Dorset Street and much of Spitalfields became overrun with mean tenements that were let out on a weekly basis. These tenements were usually let out by the room, which came sparsely furnished with ancient and often dilapidated furniture. Thomas Archer wrote about such tenements in his report on ‘The Terrible Sights of London’, saying, ‘...each ruined room is occupied by a whole family, or even two or three families, houses which are never brought under the few and not very effective restrictions of the law, and where, from garret to basement, men, women and children swarm and stifle in the foul and reeking air. It is here that poverty meets crime, and weds it.’

These tenements were particularly popular with prostitutes as they provided the privacy required to service a client that was denied them in the huge dormitories of the common lodging houses. Landlords welcomed the prostitutes because they could charge higher rent to allow for the risk of them being found to be living off immoral earnings. As the number of prostitutes operating in Spitalfields dramatically increased in the second half of the 19th century, the landlords of the tenements realised that additional money could be made out of becoming more organised in the way they controlled their tenants.

Part Two

THE VICES OF DORSET STREET

Chapter 12

The Birth of Organised Crime in Spitalfields

The term ‘organised crime’ inevitably conjures up images of suit-wearing cigar-chewing, gun-toting gangsters such as Al Capone. However, this type of highly efficient, sophisticated gang leader didn’t emerge until the 20th century. The organised crime that evolved in Spitalfields (and many other parts of London) in the 1870s was on a much more primitive level. Far from being criminal geniuses, the leaders of the Spitalfields underworld were simply men who wanted to make money, but did not possess the education or background to go about it in a strictly legal manner.

By the 1870s, Spitalfields landlords were becoming highly organised in the way they made their money. Common lodging houses represented the legitimate, if morally dubious, side of their business, as did the chandlers’ shops (which sold household essentials such as candles, soap and oil) and general stores that proliferated in the area. However, the occupations and tastes of their lodgers created a huge demand for three services that were on the wrong side of the law: prostitution, the fencing of stolen goods and illegal gambling.

A typical tenant of a common lodging house in Dorset Street and the surrounding roads was male and aged between 20 and 40. By day he would find casual work at one of the markets, on a building site or down at the docks. All these places of work provided a copious, never-ending supply of commodities well worth pilfering. Disposal of stolen goods was easy and quick; the chandlers’ shops and general stores were more than happy to purchase foodstuffs and household essentials, which were then sold on at the usual, highly inflated prices. The lodging house proprietors were also not averse to fencing, as the journalist Henry Mayhew discovered while investigating London’s poor: ‘In some of these lodging houses, the proprietor(s)... are “fences”, or receivers of stolen goods in a small way. Their “fencing”... does not extend to any plate, or jewellery, or articles of value, but is chiefly confined to provisions, and most of all to those which are of ready sale to the lodgers. Of very ready sale are “fish got from the gate” (stolen from Billingsgate); “sawney” (thieved bacon), and “flesh found in Leadenhall” (butchers’ meat stolen from Leadenhall market).’ If a more ambitious robbery was planned, the local shopkeepers’ in-depth knowledge of the population usually meant that a buyer could be found for virtually anything within hours.

By night, lodging house residents, being young, free and mostly single, sought the company of women. Recognising a gap in the market, the canny landlords installed prostitutes in their properties thus creating a new, highly lucrative revenue stream for themselves. Although the lodging houses were supposed to be patrolled by the police, this rarely happened, allowing brothels and prostitution rings to be run without impediment. In October 1888, the
East London Observer
complained of the common lodging houses that ‘No surveillance is exercised, and a woman is at perfect liberty to bring any companion she likes to share her accommodation.’ The newspaper then went on to blame the prostitutes for the proliferation of criminals in the lodging houses, which was unjust: ‘If loose women be prevented from frequenting common lodging houses, their companions the thieves, burglars and murderers of London would speedily give up resorting to them.’ As the lodging houses provided the ‘thieves and burglars’ with ‘no questions asked’ accommodation at an affordable price, it is unlikely they would have deserted them due to the lack of prostitutes.

As vice in Spitalfields’ lodging houses and furnished rooms increased, men known as ‘bullies’ were employed by the landlords. Their job was ostensibly to act as a doorman to the establishment, thus keeping undesirables away from the tenants. However, in reality, the bully’s main job was to ensure that punters didn’t leave without paying their dues. A typical bully was either ex-army or recently out of gaol. Some would work their way up the ranks until they had enough money to purchase a lodging house of their own. However, most were indolent ruffians who enjoyed lounging around during the day and exercising their muscle at night. Their only fear was of the police, which was unsurprising as many of them had a criminal record and would have easily landed themselves back in gaol after even the most minor altercation with the boys in blue. Consequently, the bullies avoided the police like the plague.

By the 1870s, Dorset Street was comprised almost entirely of common lodging houses, furnished rooms and general shops run by the landlords. Simply by catering for demand, the average Dorset Street landlord had, by the 1870s, quite a number of ‘employees’. In addition to the prostitutes who worked out of his properties (from whom he would have received a cut from any money earned in addition to the rent); there were ‘deputies’ who acted as lodging house managers, doormen or bullies and assistants for the adjacent general stores or chandler’s shops. Times were good and if a landlord was smart, a lot of money could be earned from these little empires.

The police found it easier to turn a blind eye to the goings on in the lodging houses and, without feedback from the police, the authorities were oblivious to the plight of the law-abiding residents. The only threat to the lodging house proprietors’ empires came from competitors, keen to expand their operations. Consequently, common lodging houses became highly sought-after by anyone who could raise enough money to acquire them. Enterprising young men saw how well established lodging-house keepers such as the Smiths of Brick Lane were doing and began to hatch plans to obtain their own properties. The only stumbling block was how to scrape together enough start-up capital. However, soon an Act of Parliament was about to bring their dreams much closer to reality.

Chapter 13

The Cross Act

Throughout the 1870s, the Government had become increasingly troubled about the extreme poverty and lawlessness that was prevalent in areas such as Dorset Street. Of particular concern were the properties in which the poor were forced to live. The politicians listened to the social commentators and developed sympathy for the honest poor who had to share living accommodation with prostitutes, thieves and conmen. In an attempt to improve matters, the Artisans and Labourers’ Dwellings Act (otherwise known as the Cross Act) was passed in 1875.

This act allowed the Government-run Metropolitan Board of Works (the predecessor of the London County Council,) to purchase and demolish large swathes of ‘unfit’ property, with a view to replacing the houses with more salubrious dwellings. The Board of Works responded to the act with enthusiasm and over the following two years purchased 16 slums comprising 42 acres, mainly located in the Boroughs of Stepney, Finsbury, Islington and Whitechapel (which included Spitalfields.) Many of London’s most notorious slums were demolished, including a massive site in Flower and Dean Street.

Despite its good intentions, the Cross Act produced disastrous results. It had been the Metropolitan Board of Works’ intention to sell the land on which the slums had once stood to housing charities. These charities would then build new, model dwellings in which the poor of the area could be re-housed. The new properties would be clean, bright and warm and with any luck, would have a miraculous effect on the inhabitants, who would eschew their life of crime in favour of a hard-working, God-fearing existence.

In reality, the only people to truly benefit from most of the slum clearances were the landlords of the properties earmarked for demolition. These canny property owners made sure their houses were packed to the rafters with tenants when the surveyors called in order to ensure maximum compensation for lost income. Once a property had been condemned, the landlord naturally lost all interest in repair and maintenance work thus subjecting his tenants to truly abominable conditions, while he used the money from the compulsory purchase to buy up more suitable housing close by that was not earmarked for demolition. When the condemned properties were ready to be demolished, the tenants were cast out into the street, while the landlord counted his compensation money – paid to him by the rate-payers of the Borough. The displaced slum dwellers, now desperate for somewhere to stay, crowded into the remaining lodging houses, thus lining the pockets of the landlords once again. The landlords responded to the surge in demand by raising their prices.