Ghosts of the Northern Line

I love Halloween, probably because it allows me to combine my perverse fascination with the macabre with my love of high camp. It’s funny, I was never really bothered about it when I was small. Anyway, that in mind, there’s a certain theme to the blentries this week.

I thought it would be nice to talk about something spooky. Britain is apparently the most haunted country in the world, and London makes up a significant proportion of that. And if we’re talking about hauntings and London, the subject of the Underground is never far behind. With its long and complex history, its hundreds of miles of tunnels (not all of which are accounted for, so a former London Transport worker tells me) and the fact that it’s, you know, under the ground, it’s inevitable that spooky stories would arise around it.

I’m going to largely limit myself to the Northern Line for now, simply because there are so very many ghosts on the entire system that I’d be here all night if I attempted to catalogue them all, and I appreciate how busy you are.

The most southerly sighting was at Stockwell, and took the form of an elderly workman spotted by a trainee. This gent was apparently quite sociable, having a brief conversation with the trainee who saw him. Indeed, were it not for the fact that no maintenance was due on that stretch of tunnel, the man might never have been noticed. It was surmised that he was the ghost of someone killed in the 1950s.

You might think Kennington was troublesome enough without spooks, but drivers with empty trains waiting in the tunnel for clearance to come into the station proper have reported the sound of doors on the train opening and closing, as if there’s someone walking up the train – approaching the cab…

Elephant and Castle might be the most haunted station on the network. Maybe this is because one of the tunnels on the Bakerloo Line cuts through a plague pit. Whatever reason, there have been numerous eerie occurances here. The most common was the sound of running footsteps along the platforms and up the stairs when the station was supposedly deserted apart from staff. Doors would open and shut, and a porter named Mr Horton refused to go back there after one night shift when he was alone in the break room and heard someone approaching and knocking on the door. He opened up to find the corridor deserted. A familiar ghost consists of a woman who gets on the train, walks towards the front and then disappears. This ghost supposedly haunts the last train on the Bakerloo Line, but I include it for completeness’ sake. I should also mention one seen by commuters seated alone in the carriage who, upon looking in the opposite window, are startled to see a woman sitting next to them.

The Northern Line ticket hall at Bank was built in the crypt of the church of St Mary Woolnoth, which may go some way to explaining the oppressive feeling of terror experienced by commuters there, often accompanied by a foul stench. Down on the platforms, a figure known as the Black Nun has been sighted. This ghost has also been seen in and around the Bank of England, and is named Sarah Whitehead. Her brother was executed for forgery in 1811, following which Sarah went mad with grief.

Oppressive feelings have also been reported at Embankment, in a staff-only tunnel known as “Page’s Walk”. Unexplained gusts of wind and the sounds of doors opening and closing are heard.

At Moorgate, in the mid-1970s, workers in the Northern City Line tunnels (then part of the Northern Line, now National Rail) spoke of a man in blue overalls who would approach them. As he came closer, a look of unspeakable horror would appear on his face, and he would vanish into the tunnel wall. Some paranormal enthusiasts have suggested that seeing this ghost might have been the cause of the 1975 tube crash in that part of the station, the true cause of which is unknown to this day. Others have suggested that the haint may have been a premonition of the disaster.

At King’s Cross, in the entrance tunnel, a rather modern spectre has been seen – a woman in jeans, crying piteously. The most likely event to have caused such a spirit to become manifest would have been the fire in the Underground station in 1987, in which 31 people lost their lives.

Possibly one like this.

At East Finchley, on the sidings near the station, a ghostly steam train of the Great Northern Railway has been sighted, a relic of the days before the line was run by London Underground.

Highgate, in addition to the Northern Line station that is still very much in use, has an abandoned station  that was to form part of an extensive expansion project for the line, a project known as the Northern Heights. The plan was abandoned, as was the station, but the buildings remain. This ruined station is situated in a deep cutting, and is described by author W. B. Herbert as having “an emotive, eerie atmosphere.” Local residents have reported the sound of trains in the cutting, and visitors to the ruins describe a feeling of being watched.

Last train, anyone?

Up and down the City Road

This entry may be a little brief, for which I apologise. I found myself on an unexpected evening out with Teachmaster D, the Catlady, Mistress Bitch and Mistress Bitch’s boyfriend, among others. It was a surprisingly eventful evening in which the Archies somehow became associated with Holocaust denial.

You bastards.

That being said, here is the entry for today, such as it is.

I’ve always been a bit sceptical about those people who claim there’s something mystical about wandering about the city. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice and all, but let’s not pretend it’s anything other than a pleasant way to fill a boring afternoon. Still, yesterday I had a trip out that did rather make me wonder.

You see, I set out with no particular goal in mind. It’s quite often how I roll on a boring weekend – jump on a train and see where I end up. As the train rolled into London Bridge, it occurred to me that it might be quite pleasant to head over to Islington and have a look down Camden Passage. Cass Art have a very large shop there, and I felt I could justify a visit.

While there, I remembered a thing I’d seen a couple of weeks ago on the walk described in the entry I tastefully titled ‘Canal Penetration.’ Opposite the towpath, I’d seen an old factory converted into offices, complete with what looked like an elderly crane. I have a strange fascination with old machinery, so I thought I’d see if I could get any closer, as I was in the area and all. I’d been meaning to.

I was therefore surprised to see that, as part of the Open House weekend, about which I’d entirely forgotten, the normally-closed-off wharf was open. It’s just weird to me that the one day I decide, randomly, to check this out on the offchance is the one day that I actually can check it out. No doubt the statisticians will tell me that actually there’s nothing weird about that, but boo.

I managed to get plenty of photos of the factory and the crane. The crane appears to have had its cabin replaced, judging by the neatness of the wood.

I was also quite interested to note that there is what looks like an abandoned railway on the wharfside. It’s a narrow gauge railway, as was once common in industry in Britain. A few old trucks had also survived and were dotted about the place.

I took many photos, most of which would be of interest only to nerds like me. But check out the picture on the left. A pillar of the factory goes straight through the railway track, suggesting to me that the line pre-dates the factory (or at least, that part of it).

The trucks have had their bodies replaced, so even if we assume they’re original, it’s hard to tell what they would have looked like during their working lives. However, they were very light to push over cobbles, and even with their original bodies I suspect they would not have been difficult to move on rails. Long story short, I don’t think this railway would ever have been locomotive worked, although I suspect it would once have been longer. Two tracks are in situ, one of which I suspect would have been a siding used for storage. Unfortunately, I’ve been able to find nothing on Google about this railway, and the rest of the area has been built over.

I had a quick shufti at the City Road Basin, seen on the right. This was once an important industrial site, built in 1820 (was this the date when our mystery railway appeared?) and the closest canal basin to the City. Despite its profitable location, like the rest of Britain’s canal system, it’s become more-or-less obsolete in recent years. There have been some residential developments, but even on a sunny Saturday afternoon, the place had an air of quiet loneliness about it.

The little boat on the left deserves some brief attention. It’s a Bantam tug. These were built in Brentford in the 1950s and 60s to push and pull barges on the canals. Several have been preserved and several more remain in service. Life is obviously slower on the waterways. Or they’re just pretty good tugboats.

As I turned on to City Road, the building on the right caught my eye. At first glance, it’s just your standard common-or-garden eyesore. It looks like an ancillary building for the tower block behind. Yet there were one or two things that made me wonder. For instance, it looks like there’s quite a large door that’s been boarded over at the front. And though it’s not entirely clear in this photo, there’s some architectural detail that seems a little fancy for the rough-and-ready architecture on display behind.

My suspicions were confirmed when I got home. This is, in fact, an abandoned Tube station, or as much as survives. It’s City Road, opened by the City and South London Railway in 1901. It lay between Angel and Old Street on what is now the Northern Line, City Branch. It was never a very popular station, and to be honest even today it’s not hard to see why. It’s only about 15-20 minutes gentle stroll from Angel to Old Street, and it’s not like there’s anything around here that really justifies a whole Tube station.

When rebuilding work was carried out on the stations of the C&SLR in the 1920s, the Company decided to cut their losses and simply shut the station down rather than waste money bringing it up to then-modern standards. Aside from being used as an air raid shelter, the station saw no further use after 1924. The only reason there’s anything above ground at all is because it was decided to convert the old lift shafts into ventilation shafts – what survives is the brickwork that once surrounded those shafts, the rest having been demolished. There are also remains at platform level, though I’ll own I’ve not seen them myself.

Honestly, this place is pretty good if you like your abandoned transport systems. If T. S. Eliot was an industrial archaeologist, he’d probably write a poem about it.

Further Reading

http://www.abandonedstations.org.uk/City_Road_station.html - An excellent feature showing the below-ground remains of City Road.

Old lines, new lines

As I mentioned in my last entry, I received a tip-off from a friend the other day that Aldwych Station was, for a limited time, going to be reopened. It would be highly remiss of me not to investigate, and so I did.

Aldwych, or Strand, as it was originally called, is perhaps the best known of the abandoned Underground stations. This is partly because of its location, partly because it was closed relatively recently (in 1994), but mostly because ever since its closure, it’s been preserved by London Underground.

Since then, it has been used for various purposes. Most commonly, it’s used for training. However, it’s best known as a film location, due to the fact that it’s one of only two fully intact abandoned Underground stations (the other being Charing Cross on the Jubilee Line), and therefore can be used for filming without disrupting services.

This time around, it was being used to host an exhibition about the current programme of engineering works on the Underground – the great project known in publicity as “Transforming the Tube.”

Londoners will probably know this programme better by its informal titles of “Planned Engineering Work,” or “The Reason I Had To Get A Sodding Bus.” I know I’ve moaned about it often enough, on one occasion running into no less than four different closures on the way to a meeting with a friend. However, the exhibition did a pretty good job of explaining what was going on. Apparently the problem is that they only have four hours a night to work on track repairs, therefore closures are necessary to ensure that a damn thing gets done.

The exhibition explained why upgrade work was needed – basically because the time was rapidly approaching when the system would simply be unable to cope with the demands placed on it. Some of the signalling in place dates back to the 1940s. There were some photos of signalbox interiors to prove it, and I have to say, they did have a certain retro charm. I wonder if they’d let me have the equipment when they’re done with it?

There’s also the inevitable London Olympics business. I have to say, the whole “We’re upgrading for the Olympics!” thing slightly annoys me. I mean, it’s great that we’re getting upgrades, but the fact that it took the Olympics to actually force TfL to pull their finger out makes me wonder if we’d be getting them if it weren’t for the need to impress the visitors. Still, better than nothing I suppose.

Then there’s the need to take care of changes that the original builders of the Underground never really anticipated. The need for step-free access to stations, for instance – in the 1920s, the disabled were pretty much expected to stay at home and not make a fuss about things. These days, we’re a little more enlightened (however, just try taking an electric wheelchair around the West End one day – it’s a bugger). In addition to more step-free stations, the new S Stock trains will have wheelchair access.

The question of air conditioning and why we can’t have it was briefly touched on. Long story short, we can have it on the Sub-Surface Railway (District, Circle, Hammersmith & City and Metropolitan Lines) and trains are on order. However, the Deep-Level Lines (all the rest) are so cramped that air conditioning equipment would actually create more heat than it would compensate for. The Victoria Line is having upgrades on its ventilation fans.

The rest was largely to do with improving track and signalling, installing CCTV, blahblahblah. Lots of stuff about commitments , improvements, reductions in bad things etc. All rather went over my head, if I’m honest.

I must admit that, like an awful lot of people there, I wasn’t all that interested in the exhibition (or at least, it wasn’t what had brought me there). I was more interested in having a look around Aldwych. I’d been through it once or twice while it was still open, but never since closure.

Fortunately, London Underground had anticipated this, and provided a number of displays about Aldwych itself. The staff, who were very friendly and helpful, were also showing people around. Sadly, we weren’t allowed beyond the booking hall, but there was interest to be found there. David Leboff, in his book The Underground Stations of Leslie Green, praises the office for being “amongst the most complete of any [Leslie] Green station.” It retains, as you can see in these photos (I hope) a lot of original features. Its closure in the 1990s, along with the fact that it was never a very important station anyway, probably saved it in this regard. Leboff also notes that the decor below street level is in very poor condition, but says of the frontage that it’s “the simplest of all Green designs.” I rather like it.

If you’re interested in this exhibition, it’s running until 9th July. Entry is free, it’s open until 7 every day and it doesn’t take long to get around. Ideal to look in on on your way back from work.

Further reading

http://londonparticulars.wordpress.com/2010/04/21/underground-cinema/ - Earlier entry discussing the film career of Aldwych, including a photo at platform level.

Underground cinema

The Underground is a great place to use in a film. It’s an icon of the city, much like the Houses of Parliament or Tower Bridge. It’s something that thousands use daily. It has that slightly spooky air about it. And it’s instantly recognisable. All you need is an Underground sign and people know where you are.

Filming on the Tube, though, is not so easy. It runs from early in the morning to late at night, and the rest of the time is needed for maintenance work. Although there are plenty of abandoned Underground stations, most of them are wholly unsuitable for filming – they’ve been allowed to grow derelict and they’re on lines that are still in use (i.e. even if you find one in good condition, filming will be interrupted every couple of minutes by a train).

If you want to film on a regular station, you just need to find a preserved railway. Alas, the only preserved sections of Underground are the Epping-Ongar branch (formerly the outermost extremity of the Central Line) and Quainton Road (one time part of the Metropolitan Railway). Neither of these are exactly what you think of when you think “London Underground.” What you really need is an abandoned station, in good condition, not on a running like. Oh, hey, Aldwych, didn’t see you there.

Aldwych, pictured left, was a perfect filming location even when it was still in use. It was built at the end of a stubby little branch off the Piccadilly Line, served by a shuttle service from Holborn. It was never hugely patronised, and one of the two platforms was disused by the First World War. During the Second, the whole branch was closed and used as a safe house for part of the British Museum’s collection. In 1994, the whole branch was shut down for good. The building, carrying the original “Strand” name, is still visible on the Strand.

However, it’s kept maintained and makes an excellent filming location - the fact that London Underground tend not to modernise stations unless it’s necessary (a policy Yr. Humble Chronicler applauds) means that it can be dressed up to represent more-or-less any time period from 1907 to the present day. As I say, even before it closed, the branch was little used enough that the station could be used by film crews. These days, London Underground can even provide you with a 1972 Northern Line train kept on the line especially.

It’s appeared in The Krays (as Bethnal Green), Death Line (as Russell Square), Superman IV (as the Metropolis Subway), Patriot Games, V for Vendetta, Atonement, Creep and The Bank Job, among others.

If that’s not quite to your tastes, say you need something more modern, you could always take a short stroll down to Charing Cross. While (obviously) the Bakerloo and Northern platforms are still very much in use, the Jubilee Line used to terminate here. When the Jubilee Line extension was completed in 1999, it took a jag south to Waterloo from Westminster. Charing Cross was left as the only abandoned station on the whole Jubilee Line and, of course, it had its own stretch of line. It’s not quite as popular as a filming location (perhaps because the rest of the station is very busy), but it was used in Creep (again) and 28 Weeks Later.

Failing that, of course, supposing you want something bang up to date, you might try the Waterloo and City Line. This line is closed on Sundays, giving you a whole day to play with. The trouble is that the Waterloo and City Line looks rather different from the rest of the Tube, due to the fact that it was built as an extension of the London and South Western Railway and only became part of London Underground in 1994. Nevertheless, this didn’t stop the crew of Sliding Doors from filming there or, in 1940, the crew of On the Beat.

This sort of thing is not for everyone. Some aren’t so fussy about where they film. Some don’t mind dereliction and passing trains. So it was for the crew of Neverwhere, the cult fantasy series set below London. They managed to get the use of the long-closed Down Street station for a banqueting scene. During the Second World War this station, abandoned even then, was used by Winston Churchill before the Cabinet War Rooms were completed. Apparently, due to the lifts being out of use, government officials were dropped off by passing trains from Green Park or Hyde Park Corner. Thus was it for Neverwhere – Neil Gaiman (the writer) talks about flagging down trains when filming was over. Unfortunately, Down Street is no longer allowed to be used for filming, and is strictly for emergency access only.

Kudos to An American Werewolf in London for actually filming at Tottenham Court Road, by the way.

So, what about Die Another Day? That was a pretty prominent appearance by an abandoned Tube station, right? Wrong. But that will have to wait for another time…

Further Reading

http://underground-history.co.uk/creep/ - An analysis of the locations used in Creep. The home page has a lot of interesting info about closed stations and bits of stations, as well as a photo of the train kept on the Aldwych branch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYD44UMtNh8 - Footage of Aldwych shortly before closure.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Q4uMNTEgDs - Footage of a preserved Tube train on the Jubilee Line, including a shot of the Jubilee Line platforms.

It’s grim up North London

I never know what to do with myself on a bank holiday. I thought I’d take a little trip up to the Museum of London. It’s a long time since I was last there, and on that occasion they were refurbishing some of the galleries. I took the Tube to Bank, half of which seemed to be closed (marry, ‘tis a “Bank” holiday in troth, hey nonny!) and strolled up there, through the City.

Upon arriving at the Museum, I discovered that all the lower galleries were being refurbished, and after muttering “Christ’s sake” under my breath, I decided to just go for a bit of a wander (a dérive, as the psychogeographers say). It took me through the Barbican Centre, Clerkenwell, Kings Cross, Islington, Camden, Kentish Town, Highgate, Gospel Oak, Highgate Village (by accident) and Archway. Describing the whole route would take forever, and I appreciate you’re a very busy man/woman/spam program, so for now I’ll just mention the abandoned Tube stations I found. You can have the rest later.

Abandoned tube stations are endlessly fascinating. I think the reason so many people find them interesting is actually slightly psychogeographical. So many people use Tube stations every day (never just one, for some reason) that one you can’t use, that’s terra incognita, gives us pause. And, of course, they have the air of the haunted house or the urban legend – in many cases, they’ve simply been left as they were when the trains stopped running.

I found two of these by accident on my walk. I’d heard of them, thanks to J. E. Connor’s excellent Abandoned Stations on London’s Underground, one of the few books in my collection of Underground books that people actually read without being forced. But to actually stumble across them still feels like a bit of an achievement. The first was York Road, formerly on the Piccadilly Line. This involves cutting up alongside King’s Cross Station (the road on the right as you face it) and going on and on. The route becomes very industrial and grim, not the sort of place you’d want to visit on your own after dark or, indeed, ever.

And there it is, just standing there. It looks completely incongruous, like it should be on a street in the West End, not surrounded by abandoned buildings, facing on to a field. The station lies between King’s Cross and Caledonian Road and was closed in 1932. The fact that the area was so industrial was its doom. However, redevelopment of the area as part of the Kings Cross Central project means that there are calls for the station to be reopened, so who knows? Maybe this entry will become embarrassingly out of date.

The other one I found was not so easy to identify, as the location was covered up by a massive ‘CASH CONVERTERS’ sign.

However, diligent research (i.e. reading Mr Connor’s book) revealed this to be South Kentish Town. It was located between Camden Town and Regular Kentish Town on the Northern Line. Never particularly popular (it’s only a short distance from Kentish Town Station), it closed in 1924 during a strike, and the Powers that Be decided that this was a convenient point to close it down. Apparently one passenger didn’t get the message, and was briefly stranded on the platform after alighting by mistake in 1933.

If you’ve ever wanted to live in an abandoned Tube station (and who hasn’t?), I see that part of the station is to let there. A massage parlour appears to have opened there as well. Opening a massage parlour right next to a busy Underground line is an excellent idea, as it’s one of the few places where you can legitimately guarantee that the earth will move.

Further reading:

http://www.abandonedstations.org.uk/ - a comprehensive guide to the ghost stations of London.