yards past the Windmill on the right-hand side. She had a flat, one bedroom, small rooms, on the second floor; I remember walking up the rickety stairs. She worked for a Jewish tailor who had a workroom on another floor and she would work there, or bring stuff into the flat. She used to repair clothes, trousers.â
Chas McDevitt had several flats in the West End. âIn â58, I lived at the Cambridge Circus end of Old Compton Street above what became a dirty book shop, but was then just a closed-up shopfront, on the second floor. I looked there about fifteen, twenty years later and they still hadnât changed the curtains! Filthy things, they were. I was on the road a lot, so it was just a place to crash. There was virtually a brothel next door, and when the girls knew I was leaving to get married, they wanted to know if they could have my flat.â
For John Carnera and his family, their Soho flat came with a job attached. âI landed in England on 1 March 1947 with my mother and brother, and we went to live in 45 Dean Street. My father worked at Gennaroâs restaurant, and we had the second and third floor above â well, 44 was actually the restaurant, 45 was a bar leading into it, and we were above that. We lived there for twelve years, above what became the Groucho Club.
âOn the first floor, above the restaurant in 44, there was another large dining room, which was used for functions, and in 45 the first floor was a changing room for the waiters and whatever. The second floor was our bedrooms, and then on the top floor we had our front room and kitchen.
âIn the early fifties, the Gennaros kindly built us a bathroom. Before that, we used to use the restaurantâs toilets, and wash there. We had to go down to the first floor, through the banqueting room â which was usually empty â to get to the cloakrooms. So that was not convenient. You had to time going to the toilet when the restaurant wasnât open. You were looking at the morning, between three in the afternoon and six in the evening, and then after eleven at night. Imagine that!â
Owen Gardnerâs family home also came with his fatherâs job: âWe moved from Somerset to live in Upper St Martinâs Lane in Christmas 1946, and were there for ten years. My father worked for Pageâs, the caterersâ suppliers in Shaftesbury Avenue, and the family lived over Pageâs main warehouse, which occupied a whole block.
âBefore the war, the buildings belonged to Aldridgesâ Horse Repository. * During the war, the building was used as a garage for the NAAFI, and they had it completely altered. Pageâs took it on after the war as a warehouse. Our flat on thefirst floor was all converted offices. Our toilet had âLadies Toiletâ painted in gold on the door. It was difficult to find anywhere to live in those days, just after the war; although these were just offices, we didnât mind.â
The lack of housing was a pressing problem in the years immediately following the Second World War. In the East End and the suburbs, prefabricated houses (âprefabsâ) were built on land cleared by the devastating Blitz years, but these were not provided for West End people whose homes had âcopped itâ. As a result of this, those West Enders who did have a place to live hung on to it. Peter Jenkinsâs father was the Superintendent of the Wild Street Peabody Buildings in the late forties and the fifties. âIn post-war London, if you got a flat you were in clover,â he remembers. âAnd you didnât do anything to jeopardize that tenancy. You didnât do any deals on the side; that would get you evicted. You didnât sublet â that was one of the strict rules. You couldnât have a lodger. You couldnât co-habit, you had to be married. In all those years I lived there, I can hardly remember a crime at all. You would have been out on your
Chas McDevitt had several flats in the West End. âIn â58, I lived at the Cambridge Circus end of Old Compton Street above what became a dirty book shop, but was then just a closed-up shopfront, on the second floor. I looked there about fifteen, twenty years later and they still hadnât changed the curtains! Filthy things, they were. I was on the road a lot, so it was just a place to crash. There was virtually a brothel next door, and when the girls knew I was leaving to get married, they wanted to know if they could have my flat.â
For John Carnera and his family, their Soho flat came with a job attached. âI landed in England on 1 March 1947 with my mother and brother, and we went to live in 45 Dean Street. My father worked at Gennaroâs restaurant, and we had the second and third floor above â well, 44 was actually the restaurant, 45 was a bar leading into it, and we were above that. We lived there for twelve years, above what became the Groucho Club.
âOn the first floor, above the restaurant in 44, there was another large dining room, which was used for functions, and in 45 the first floor was a changing room for the waiters and whatever. The second floor was our bedrooms, and then on the top floor we had our front room and kitchen.
âIn the early fifties, the Gennaros kindly built us a bathroom. Before that, we used to use the restaurantâs toilets, and wash there. We had to go down to the first floor, through the banqueting room â which was usually empty â to get to the cloakrooms. So that was not convenient. You had to time going to the toilet when the restaurant wasnât open. You were looking at the morning, between three in the afternoon and six in the evening, and then after eleven at night. Imagine that!â
Owen Gardnerâs family home also came with his fatherâs job: âWe moved from Somerset to live in Upper St Martinâs Lane in Christmas 1946, and were there for ten years. My father worked for Pageâs, the caterersâ suppliers in Shaftesbury Avenue, and the family lived over Pageâs main warehouse, which occupied a whole block.
âBefore the war, the buildings belonged to Aldridgesâ Horse Repository. * During the war, the building was used as a garage for the NAAFI, and they had it completely altered. Pageâs took it on after the war as a warehouse. Our flat on thefirst floor was all converted offices. Our toilet had âLadies Toiletâ painted in gold on the door. It was difficult to find anywhere to live in those days, just after the war; although these were just offices, we didnât mind.â
The lack of housing was a pressing problem in the years immediately following the Second World War. In the East End and the suburbs, prefabricated houses (âprefabsâ) were built on land cleared by the devastating Blitz years, but these were not provided for West End people whose homes had âcopped itâ. As a result of this, those West Enders who did have a place to live hung on to it. Peter Jenkinsâs father was the Superintendent of the Wild Street Peabody Buildings in the late forties and the fifties. âIn post-war London, if you got a flat you were in clover,â he remembers. âAnd you didnât do anything to jeopardize that tenancy. You didnât do any deals on the side; that would get you evicted. You didnât sublet â that was one of the strict rules. You couldnât have a lodger. You couldnât co-habit, you had to be married. In all those years I lived there, I can hardly remember a crime at all. You would have been out on your
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