Great British Railway Journeys (2010) s05e06 Episode Script

1 In 1840, one man transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw and his railway guides inspired the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by stop, he told them where to go, what to see and where to stay.
And now, 110 years later, I'm aboard for a series of rail adventures across the United Kingdom to see what of Bradshaw's Britain remains.
1837 is a year that lives in British history.
In that June, King William IV died and his niece, Victoria, became queen at barely 18 years of age.
In the following month, there opened the first section of a hugely ambitious railway designed and built by the great engineer, Robert Stephenson, providing a high-speed link between London and Birmingham, two of the greatest cities on the globe.
I'm beginning my journey through the heart of England at the London terminus designed by Stephenson with suitable splendour, Euston.
I'm starting on the urban commuter lines of London.
Then, heading north on the London Midland line, on to the manufacturing heartlands of Northamptonshire and Warwickshire.
After making stops in the East Midlands, my journey will conclude in Yorkshire.
Today, I'll travel under and over ground to the outskirts of the metropolis at Harrow before moving on to Tring and the Buckinghamshire town of Cheddington.
On the first leg of this adventure, I discover an underground warehouse which once sewed the empire So this was for the storage of beer, was it? It's an amazing labyrinth that goes on and on and on.
I hear the tale of a millionaire eccentric who turned his home into an exotic museum He would be seen driving around with his four zebras? Both here and also in Piccadilly, in London.
and I travel to a point on the line that witnessed an abrupt end to the railway's age of innocence.
There's quite a big gang, 15 guys.
They formed a human chain down this abutment and passed the mailbags down.
2.
6 million in 120 mailbags.
Sadly, arriving at Euston, Bradshaw's is less than usually reliable.
"Passing under the magnificent Doric entrance, which forms so grand a feature of the metropolitan terminus of this railway, the huge pile of building at once arrests the eye.
" "The style of architecture is Roman and has been treated with great skill.
" What happened to all that classical grandeur that it should come to this? Stephenson 's grand Euston opened in 1837 with the first inter-city trains running all the way to Birmingham.
To find out what happened to all that splendour, I'm meeting up with architectural historian Robert Hradsky to discover more about the station's heritage.
- Robert.
Hello.
- Michael.
I get the impression from Bradshaw's that Euston Station, when it opened, was extraordinarily grand.
What would the early Victorian railway traveller have seen here? As you arrived, you would have seen this immense stone arch, the Euston Arch.
The Euston Arch was the very first great monument of the railway age.
So what happened to it all, this wonderful arch? Where's it gone? It was demolished in the 1960s.
It wasn't just the arch that was lost.
There was a great complex.
There was a wonderful ticket office, the great hall.
There was a shareholders' meeting room.
In fact, there was a great campaign to save the arch.
It was spearheaded by John Betjeman and Nikolaus Pevsner.
They met the Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan.
He didn't care.
Today, people would be aghast, but at the time, in the 1960s, the attitude towards 19th-century architecture was quite different.
Yes.
I don't remember the old Euston, but I do remember when the new Euston opened and I'm afraid I was one of the philistines.
You know, I thought this was fantastic because this was like an air terminal.
This was the modern world.
And I do now feel as though I was, really, a cultural vandal.
And it was total architectural desecration.
Some of the stone ended up in a demolition worker's house, while most of the rest went to fill a hole at the bottom of a London canal.
In 1994, divers went down into the Prescott Channel near the River Lee, the final resting place for the arch.
The trust now has great plans to rebuild the arch at Euston and to reinstate the station's lost grandeur, something which shows proper respect for the engineer of the London-to-Birmingham line, Robert Stephenson.
Nowadays, the journey from Euston to Camden takes about four minutes on the Northern line of the London Underground.
But in the early days of the London-to-Birmingham railway, this short section represented an enormous challenge, which was met by a typically radical Victorian engineering solution.
Camden Town is on a slight hill above Euston.
And for Stephenson 's early locomotives, the incline proved too steep.
a winding engine to pull trains up the incline by means of a 3,700-metre-long endless rope.
It was powered by two 60-horsepower steam engines.
In their day, the winding engine towers became something of a tourist attraction.
But within seven years, the winding engine was redundant because of advances in locomotive technology and a tighter timetable.
Bradshaw's tells me that "the internal economy of a railway, and the activity, regularity and order with which these great undertakings are conducted, may be gathered from a visit to the Camden Town goods station.
" Extraordinary to believe that while Euston was the passenger terminus, the meeting point of the goods and services of the British Empire was here at Camden.
I have to know more.
Looking at today's sprawling warren of streets, it's hard to believe that Camden Town as we know it began life in the 1790s as little more than a handful of buildings.
I've come to meet Peter Darley, founder of Camden Railway Heritage Trust.
I love the canals here in Camden.
Does that mean that actually there was a history of freight here in Camden - before the railways? - There was indeed.
The Regent's Canal linked the Grand Junction Canal at Paddington Basin to the docks at Limehouse.
So this was a way of getting trade from the Midlands all the way through, and the North of England, all the way through to the docks.
Everything from iron to coal would arrive into Camden and then be taken on by barge to the Thames, some of it for export.
It would have seemed as busy then as the M25 does today and each of the heavily laden barges would have been pulled by a horse.
If you look carefully, you can still see traces of where the horses towed barges from the lock across this bridge.
It's extraordinary to think that cast iron could be worn away like that, by a rope pulled by a horse.
That's amazing.
But it was the sand and the silicon that was picked up by the cotton rope from the bottom of the canal that really effected the wear.
You've got to have respect for those horses.
My goodness.
To understand better the impact of the arrival of the railway on the Regent's Canal, Peter's taking me onto the waterway.
I'm going to see how goods would have been brought in by boat and, above the canal, by road and rail.
This is the interchange warehouse.
So interchanging what? Between water and railway and road? Yes, indeed.
There were all manner of hoists and opening doors that allowed goods to be taken from road and rail and stored in the warehouse.
The warehouse was designed to mechanise the whole process of freight transport.
It became a gigantic goods distribution centre.
And the fortress-like building needed to be very strong, safe enough to store valuables such as wines, spirits and silk as well as beer, coal and lime.
First the boats had to negotiate this watery entrance with the inauspicious name of Dead Dog Basin.
It's quite spooky in here, actually.
Bit dirty.
I think you call this guano.
There's a lot of bird life in here.
There certainly are a lot of pigeons nesting in here.
It's vast.
Tell me about the scale of it.
Well, it was designed for 16 different narrowboats.
They could park four across.
It's very impressive.
It really is, I think, a symbol of the confidence of the railway company in its ability to move goods around the world and around London.
Here we are in the 1855 vaults.
It was originally for the storage of beer.
It's an amazing labyrinth, isn't it? It goes on and on and on.
And I always admire the Victorian brickies.
They were real skilled craftsmen, weren't they? Everything is so beautifully arched and vaulted.
And these vaults extend over probably about half an acre.
It's a whole secret world, isn't it? Well, this is what I like to see.
Railway lines.
And my Bradshaw's is rather eloquent on this.
"During the six months ended August 1848, 73,732 railway wagonloads of goods entered and departed from Camden Station.
" That's quite a thought, isn't it? Once at Camden, horse-drawn wagons would have been waiting to take the goods into the city.
At the busiest times, there would have been 800 horses working here.
I think of the Victorian era as being highly mechanised.
It's easy to forget that they were still dependent on horses.
Almost every railway journey was started behind one plodding horse and finished behind another.
But for the next leg of my journey, horses won't be much use.
I'm using London's newest rail service, the London Overground, providing a 21 st-century link that orbits the capital.
Next stop, Willesden Junction.
Willesden Junction, first built by Robert Stephenson in 1841 as part of the London-Birmingham railway.
The junction occurs between trains that are moving from east to west at this higher level.
I'm going down below, where the trains go from south to north.
Bradshaw's is enthusiastic about my next stop.
"On account of the delightful prospect which the churchyard of Harrow Hill affords, it's a place of frequent resort.
" "Crossing the meadow from the station we reach the foot of the hill, and if we ascend the summit, the view deserves all the encomiums bestowed upon it.
" Well, I know Harrow pretty well myself, and I don't think we're going to find a meadow between the station and the hill.
In 1841, Harrow was safely distant from the capital's rapid expansion.
But by the time my family moved to neighbouring Stanmore in 1954, Harrow was already a major commuter town.
Harrow School was famed for educating a notorious and illustrious array of boys, from Byron to Peel and Churchill.
I'm curious to see how the town has changed, not just since Bradshaw's day, but from my own schooldays.
You probably just thought it was just my bad taste that made me wear things like this, but no.
This is the blazer of my old boys' association from my old school, which is behind me.
Harrow School, the posh one, is at the top of the hill and here at the bottom, the lowly grammar school, for bright boys from ordinary families.
We felt a rivalry with the public school, mixed with inverted snobbery.
"Worth, not birth" was our school motto, and our school song began, “Worth not birth' will be our battle cry I came to Harrow County in 1964.
Here I am aged 17, and I haven't changed a bit.
I like to recall those days.
Returning to these familiar haunts reminds me just how much I owe to my school.
Well, the view from the churchyard at the top of Harrow Hill is, as Bradshaw's says, a delightful one, "of the wide, rich valley through which the Thames stretches its sinuous course, embracing a view of the fertile portions of Buckinghamshire and Berkshire".
Now, this is very interesting.
The gravestone of Thomas Port.
"Bright rose the morn and vig'rous rose poor Port.
" "Gay on the Train, he used his wonted sport.
" "'Ere noon arrived, his mangled form they bore, With pain distorted and o'erwhelmed with gore.
" "When evening came to close the fatal day, A mutilated corpse the sufferer lay.
" Commemorating an early victim of a railway accident.
His tragic death in 1838 was one of the railway's first fatalities, but unfortunately, it wasn't the last in Harrow.
On a misty October morning tragedy came to north London.
When a local train was standing at Harrow and Wealdstone Station, crowded with workers on their way to the city, the Perth night express came thundering in.
Then, to add to the horror, the Liverpool-bound train roared in at 60 miles an hour, piling up into a hell of wreckage and human suffering.
112 people died and more than 300 were injured in England's most catastrophic railway accident.
For me, the tragedy has some personal resonance, so I'm meeting railway journalist, Gareth Edwards, to find out more.
Gareth, I wanted to talk about the terrible rail disaster of 1952.
My brother was at school in the area and he told me he has some memory of it.
I think they came to the school, appealing for some of the older boys to come down and give blood.
How does it unfold? The person who really sees it unfold is the signalman at the time.
That was Signalman Armitage.
And as the express was coming down from Scotland into Euston, he stopped it here.
Travelling maybe at that sort of speed.
Yes.
We're far enough from Euston here that the trains go fast in both directions.
Now, because of those speeds, there was a range of signals between here and Watford Tunnel, which is where the express train was coming through.
And Signalman Armitage set all three of those signals to make sure that the express train stopped.
The reason he did that was because at the time, there was a very packed commuter train sitting here at Harrow Station.
Suddenly, out of the mist, Signalman Armitage sees this train just pouring towards the station, about 50, 60 miles an hour.
He lurches across the signal box.
He tries to set the signal to stop it, but it's too late.
And to his horror, he realises that there's going to be an accident.
In that split second, he frantically leans back across the signal box and tries to grab the lever to warn another express that's coming in on the Euston line.
Unfortunately, it's too late.
The express train from Scotland goes straight into the commuter train and then, as the wreckage is still there, this fast train coming up from Euston slides into the wreckage.
The death toll could have been far worse had it not been for the fast response of US Air Force medical personnel, some of whom had been caught up in the accident.
They were able to give medical assistance on the spot.
But this shocking tragedy could have been avoided and lessons about rail safety needed to be learnt quickly.
Harrow is ultimately the result of driver failure.
It really highlights that sometimes the human element isn't enough.
You need technology to help these people.
Harrow is the point where you start to see the move to having AWS, automated warning systems, in place on trains.
Railways learn by trial and error.
Obviously the errors are hideous, but nonetheless safety moves forward.
Yes.
I mean, it takes time.
It takes a long time for those things to start to come in, but they do eventually arrive.
So since then, train drivers have had the benefit of automatic warning systems to counter human error and there hasn't been another UK disaster on such a scale.
I'm up early to catch the train north to Tring in leafy Hertfordshire.
Today's rail timetable says that my journey should take just under half an hour.
Bradshaw's tells me that at Tring, my next stop, "the railway reaches its greatest elevation, being 300 foot above that of Camden Town.
" But it's not just the tracks that reached new heights in this part of Hertfordshire.
It also attracted the most elevated echelons of society.
We are now approaching Tring.
Tring Park was the country estate of one of the world's wealthiest banking families, the Rothschilds.
By the early 1800s, Nathan Mayer Rothschild had earned a fortune from trading textiles and gold.
But Nathan's eldest son, Walter, was a reluctant banker, announcing at the age of seven, "I'm going to make a museum.
" Tring Park became home to Walter's collection, with an astonishing variety of animals.
When his treasures outgrew the family house, the Rothschilds came up with a grand solution.
I've come to Tring's Natural History Museum to meet Alice Adams, one of the curators, to find out what happened to his collection.
How did the museum begin? The museum was essentially a 21st-birthday present for Walter.
You know, your average birthday present.
- How wonderful.
- Perfectly normal.
It had got to the stage He started collecting when he was five.
By the time he got to the age of 20, he had literally thousands of specimens.
It was out of hand.
He was storing things in his parents' mansion, in various sheds and buildings all over Tring.
It was a bit of a mess.
His parents recognised by that time that he wasn't growing out of this childhood hobby.
This was really what he wanted to do.
This was his passion.
Before he died in 1937, Walter had amassed over a million specimens here and the collection is now part of the Natural History Museum.
Coming face to face with Walter's treasures, I'm left in little doubt about what an unusual figure he must have been.
Would it be fair to call him eccentric? I guess in some ways you could say he was.
One of the things he did was have four live zebras which he managed to train with some specialist horse handlers to pull a carriage, which is incredible, because zebras are said to be absolutely impossible to train.
Very temperamental.
Kicking, biting.
It was a real achievement.
And so he would be seen driving around with his four zebras? Both here and also in Piccadilly, in London.
He was invited to take them to Buckingham Palace, because they'd heard about it.
He used three zebras and a pony because when he had the four zebras attached, when he pulled the reins, the zebras would sit down, maybe as a protest.
So when he ran with three zebras and a pony, when he pulled the reins, the pony would run and the zebras cooperate.
Very useful tip, should I ever find myself with a pony and three zebras.
Walter's zebras eventually ended up in his museum and the challenge for Tring is that conserving these 100-year-old specimens is a painstaking task.
So is this right? I'm keeping the vacuum cleaner fairly close.
I'm just brushing the fur.
Yeah.
This looks like a great job.
You can imagine how long it takes us to do all 4,000 specimens in the museum.
You've got to do it gently.
It's very important to clean a zebra without crossing it.
Now, intermittently, just check the gauze to see if we've picked up any pest species.
There we go.
Well, I thought it was funny, anyway.
Walter's collection illustrates that this was an age of travel and discovery.
For the next 100 years, the railways flourished.
Anything and everything was being carried by train including money, food, even gold.
By the 1960s, the supremacy of the railways was being challenged.
Lines were closed and for the first time in its history, the railway was under threat.
My next station, Cheddington, says Bradshaw's, is "four and a half miles from the money order office".
Now, that particular office didn't put this area on the map, but the success of the post office and the money that it handles certainly did, in an event that stands in railway history, and indeed in my memory.
Cheddington is our next station.
8th August, 1963, saw one of the most audacious robberies in British history.
£2.
15 million, around £4045 million in today's money, was stolen from the Glasgow-to-London mail train.
I'm meeting author Nick Russell-Pavier who has researched the event in detail.
The Great Train Robbery.
I remember picking up the newspaper in August 1963 and reading that £2.
5 million had been stolen from a train.
I had no idea that that sort of money was being transported by rail.
Why was it? Trains were just a very good way of getting mail and money up and down the country.
There was a lot of money floating around in 1963.
The practice in banking at that stage was that regional banks would transport surplus funds overnight back to their central offices in London.
Money was constantly shifting up and down the mainline railways.
What was it the robbers had to do to commit their crime? There were signals there.
This is Sears Crossing.
The robbers rigged the lights here to stop the mail train coming down from Glasgow, which was carrying the money.
So they turned the light to red.
How do they do that? Actually, extraordinarily simply.
It was kind of like a Blue Peter way of doing it.
They had some six-volt batteries.
They hotwired the red light and covered the green light with a black leather glove.
- It was as simple as that.
- And then what did they have to do? They had to first of all uncouple the locomotive and the carriage carrying the money, and move it down to a bridge about 1,000 yards further south than here, where it's near a road.
They had to unload 120 mailbags, which was very heavy.
Now, that bridge.
That is the iconic image.
I remember the photograph of the little bridge and the locomotive parked above it.
From what I recall, a breakthrough for the police came when about a day after the robbery, they put out a statement saying they thought the robbers were still within 30 miles.
And indeed they were.
They were at a farmhouse 23 miles away.
That put the robbers into a panic.
It did.
And it was decisive.
But actually it was the result of a misquote.
What the head of Buckinghamshire CID in fact said, because it was based on something the robbers said to people on the train, was, "Don't move for 30 minutes.
" What they were going to search was a distance of 30 minutes' travelling time from the bridge, but there was a misquote by the press and in fact the robbers were 28 miles outside.
So it was just a complete stroke of luck.
From then on, the whole thing began to unravel quite significantly.
The police mounted a huge hunt for the robbers and their hideout.
Fingerprints and evidence at a nearby farmhouse eventually led to ten of the sixteen being imprisoned.
Most of the money was never recovered.
Two of the perpetrators later escaped from high-security prisons and the most notorious, Ronnie Biggs, went on the run for over 35 years.
Why do you think this crime lives so much in our memories? I think partly the idea of robbing a train has that sort of Jesse James kind of Westerns were very popular in 1963, so it had that romantic image to it.
But undoubtedly the mythology was to some extent sparked by the GPO and British Railways who were highly embarrassed about losing so much money.
And so it rather suited them to, if you like, big up the robbery and the press of course picked up on that and the British public absolutely loved it.
Trains first ran along these tracks in the first weeks of Queen Victoria's reign.
If the railways were then newborn, they've lost their innocence since.
This line has seen its share of horrors.
A dreadful accident and a notorious robbery.
But the railways are the great survivor from Victorian times.
Steel wheels still run along steel tracks along lines and through stations designed by 19th-century engineers.
A remarkable tribute to Robert Stephenson and his brilliant generation.
On the next leg of my journey, I meet one of the Second World War's most secret agents It was all a bit crafty, really.
So you took a message which had a meaning and you put it into other words, but the meaning - had to be exactly the same.
- That's right.
I test my knowledge of 18th-century hymns - Do you recognise that one? - You're teasing me.
What is it? and learn the ancient craft of vellum making.
- Do you do this all day? - This is my afternoon work.