As I ponder over whether to publish a third edition of Subterranean City myself or with a major publisher (having this week spent hours searching out all my royalty statements - I'd forgotten how impressive the sales figures of the first two editions had been - at the time I thought those figures were normal, as it was my first book, I've since learnt differently) underground subjects again come to the fore.
A recent addition to the Collection has been 'Shelter Scene' by Edward Ardizzone, a 1941 lithograph published by the National Gallery, printed at the Baynard Press and commissioned by the War Artists Advisory Committee of the Ministry of Information.
It depicts the interior of the Commercial Road Goods Depot in Whitechapel commandeered as an air raid shelter during the Blitz. It was known as 'Tilbury' which has understandably caused confusion with a number of commentators assuming it was situated in Tilbury docks some miles further down river. I recently emailed the Tate to correct that error in their caption for Henry Moore's A Tilbury Shelter Scene 1941 - they didn't respond, of course, and the error remains - see here.
There is an excellent, highly detailed history of the building by Tim Smith for the Greater London Industrial Archaeology Society here.
The hydraulic power station that supplied the warehouse still exists as a private building in Hooper Street. See here and here.
The best and most evocative description of life in Tilbury is from the Mass Observation archives see here - written up by one of the co-founders Tom Harrisson and published as Living Through the Blitz (Penguin, 1976, 1990). A Mass Observer's description from 14 September 1940:
First impression was of a dim cavernous immensity. The roof is made of metal girders, held up by rows of arches, old and solid ...giving a somewhat church-like atmosphere. The hall is oblong in shape, and covers many acres ... so huge and dim, the end seems out of sight ... Between the lines of archways are wooden platforms, raised about four feet from the ground and stretching the whole length of the shelter. Between them are wide gangways, paved with brick and earth trodden so hard that one might imagine it was stone. Round three sides of the interior runs a narrow railway track, in almost total darkness, for here there are no lights, and here the earthen floor is dark and rough. The entrance to this vast, dim, cathedral-like structure is narrow and insignificant - just a break in the street wall that could easily be missed by the passer-by. But once through this gap, one finds oneself in a large stone courtyard, sloping way in two directions down into the earth ... There are only two small doors into the shelter, one of which can be locked on occasion, the other manned by police ...
By 7.30pm every bit of floor-space is taken up ... Deckchairs, blankets, stools, seats, pillows ... people lying everywhere, on the railway track, among the margarine crates, everywhere. The floor was awash with urine ... only two lavatories for 5000 women, none for men ... overcome by the smell. People are sleeping on piles of rubbish ... the passages loaded with filth. Lights dim or non-existent ... they sit, in darkness, head of one against the feet of the next ... there is no room to move and hardly any to stretch. Some horses were still stabled there, and their mess mingles with that of the humans ...
Ardizzone's shelterers are not so jam-packed and are stoically going about their business getting ready for the night, filth and squalor is not obviously in evidence.
Gradually links were forged amongst the shelterers, marshals were elected, some basic rules for order and hygiene established and cleaning teams set to work.
There were some lighter moments recorded by MO: 'A girl played an accordion, while men danced burlesque dances round her ... a young coster was playing the accordion. He played well - with fire. A coster girl, about 20, sang a gypsy melody in a clear, high, plaintive voice ... Another archway was playing 'Knees up Mother Brown'.
Tilbury was demolished in 1975 and part of the site was redeveloped as an operations centre for National Westminster Bank.
There is an article about Tilbury in London's Industrial Archaeology vol.2 1980.
See also here
The painting illustrated above is The Foothills, Tilbury Bombed Second Time by Rose L. Henriques (watercolour on paper, c1941) For more on the artist see here.
