Drink and Drama at The Wheatsheaf

I often claim that London boozers are my natural habitat. Centuries of dramas, great and small, from just one pub can feed the imagination, so is it any wonder? The Wheatsheaf hides in the shadows of the medieval Borough Market and, as they’ve done since 1862, the trains rumble overhead so frequently they’re barely noticed. The current building dates from 1840, its interior rebuilt in1890, but the pub has served beer since the late 18th Century. I recently spent an evening there with friends - it was busier than I like, but who you’re with is more important than where you are, and a little research revealed that it had plenty of stories for me.

Door of The Wheatsheaf, Stoney Street, London SE1

‘Found Drowned’

The Wheatsheaf sometimes hosted its own Dickensian melodramas in the form of inquests into sudden and unexplained deaths, many involving the nearby River Thames. At an inquest, the coroner and jury would view the body and examine witnesses, in an attempt to ascertain the cause and manner of death. In 1845, septuagenarian Catherine Clay, having collected her pension, was seen drinking in a local pub and arguing with a man she owed money. None was found on her body the following day, when it was fished out of the river at Hibernia Wharf, close to Southwark Cathedral. 

In 1846, 15-year-old Bermondsey boy Jeremiah Doyle sat bloodied and crying in the street, after his mother had beaten him with a poker for striking his sister. His body was found floating by the steps at London Bridge - an apparent suicide. At the inquest, Mrs Doyle claimed she had simply slapped Jeremiah and dismissed her dead son as having been ‘a very sulky boy.’ 

Despite considerable disapprobation towards Mrs Clay’s creditor and Master Doyle’s mother, the juries were directed to return the open verdict of ‘found drowned.’

'Strong Malicious Feeling'

In Victorian times, when sport wasn’t organised professionally, pubs became a meeting point for those who wished to arrange contests in riding, running, and particularly boxing. 

In March 1848, The Wheatsheaf hosted the well-attended weigh-in for a bare knuckle fight which was to take place on Woking Common, between George Crockett (19) and John Hazeltine (24). Crockett had been living at the pub and the licensee, Mr Cripps, helped him out with the arrangements and expenses.

Report of the fight between Crockett and Hazeltine in Bell's Life in London & Sporting Chronicle of 2 April 1848 (from the British Newspaper Archive)

After Crockett won the fight, he fell out with Cripps. The publican alleged that he had lent the boxer £20, but when the purse was handed over at The Wheatsheaf, the lad declined to reimburse him so forcefully that he ended up in court, charged with using abusive and threatening language. Cripps’ fears, expressed by his counsel, were reported in the paper:

“the defendant was a man of singular prowess in the art of boxing and a punch in the head from such a person would be no joke. And as the complainant was really apprehensive that the defendant was actuated by a very strong malicious feeling against him, he therefore thought it requisite, for his own safety, to have the matter brought under the cognisance of the magistrate, in order that the defendant be bound over to keep the peace.” 

Bound over he was, but in April 1850, Crockett was back at The Wheatsheaf, under another landlord, ‘prepared to make a match with Young Noon, at 9st 8lbs, for £50 or £100.’ It's worth pointing out that at today's prices that purse would be worth £8,600 or £17,200 and that Cripps would be owed about £3,400, allegedly.

Crimes and Misfortunes

In1881, then landlord’s son Albert Armener, appeared before the beak alongside his friend Frederick Hunter, accused of possessing a gold watch, which had been picked from a pocket in a crowded Aldersgate Street. Hunter bought it for £12 at an auction room door. He later agreed to sell it to Armener, but his friend pawned it, unwittingly exposing its illicit provenance. The magistrate accepted that they hadn’t pinched the watch, but believed they would have known full well that it was stolen. There was no proof, and the two accused men were supported by glowing character witnesses, leading the magistrate to dismiss the case in the belief that no jury would convict them.

Advertisement in the South London Chronicle on 9th April 1898. [from the British Newspaper Archive]

In June 1897, for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, according to the paper The Wheatsheaf was “artistically decorated with cut flowers and fairy lamps. Mr Rocke, the genial proprietor, entertained a party during the day, and the arrangements of the popular manager Mr George Jennings, were perfect.” 

Three months earlier, George had been presented with a ‘pretty and beautifully chased silver cigarette case,’ expressing the hope that his ‘genial face and kindly bearing would remain with them for a long time to come.’ Alas, it wasn’t to be.

Jennings took The Wheatsheaf over from Rocke, but in 1899 it was reported that in doing so, he’d made ‘a financial error’ which drove him to the edge of ruin. The newspaper report continued: “But the market boys are warm-hearted, and determined to do what they could for him.” They held a collection and even organised a concert at Hampton Court Palace, earning him £50. Music hall was at the height of its popularity, so the concert for Jennings would have featured variety ‘turns’ such as this one by Marie Kendall. It’s from the 1934 film Say it With Flowers, in which a similar concert is held for an ailing market trader.

In May 1904 Wheatsheaf landlord William Ford accused two of his staff of stealing 6/2 (pronounced 'six and two' - that’s six shillings and tuppence - or 32p today). He promised Percy Stokes (18) and Henry Rodway (17) that if they confessed to him in full he would not prosecute them, but believing they'd confessed only in part, he proceeded. In court, the magistrate ruled the ‘confession’ could not stand as evidence. The prosecutor agreed, saying that this was why he hadn’t signed the charge sheet, had paid the culprits’ bail - and allowed them to live with him. A bewildered magistrate dismissed the case.

As a market pub, for the benefit of the porters The Wheatsheaf could serve legally between 3.00 am and 6.00 am, and remain open serving food, tea and coffee until noon, when the sale of intoxicants could resume. Despite this, in 1919, landlord Joseph Dumbleton was fined for serving alcohol outside licensing hours, because his son was caught serving beer at 7:40 am. Dumbleton was fined for allowing it, his son for serving it and three customers for drinking it.

In December 1920, The Wheatsheaf’s head barman James Board (39) bet heavily on a fight at the Royal Albert Hall between the British heavyweight champion Joe Beckett and American, Frank Moran, nicknamed ‘The Pittsburgh Dentist’. Board bet on a Beckett win, but he was knocked out in the second round. When news reached Borough Market, Board excused himself, put a revolver to his head and pulled the trigger. 

Illustrated Police News, 16th December 1920. [from the British Newspaper Archive]

Modern Dramas

In 2009, the pub was closed for the removal of the top floor to accommodate the extended railway viaduct above. The old business moved into the former Hop Exchange where it remains as The Sheaf. Young’s reopened the original pub and although it had lost a floor, demolition of the building next door had compensated it with the yard that serves as a beer garden.

Borough Market, a photograph of a market porter displayed inside it and The Wheatsheaf - note the missing upper storey and added yard.

In 2017, having deliberately crashed their van on London Bridge, three men ran through the Saturday evening crowds around the market, stabbing whoever they could. They killed 8 and injured 48, before they were shot dead in the street by the police, right outside The Wheatsheaf.

Drinking among the relaxed, cheerful crowd the other day, I can only imagine how utterly shocking it must have been to have to hide behind the bolted pub doors, while the drama outside reached its bloody conclusion.