Tag Archives: 1972

Red Lion, Colliers Wood

Pub that was at 60-62 High Street, Colliers Wood, SW19 2BY. The site is now occupied by a CO-OP.

1968 photo by Eric Montague, reproduced by kind permission of the Merton Historical Society.

1967 OS map. Ordnance survey maps are reproduced by permission of the National Library of Scotland (reuse CC-BY).

Licensees

1972 – Dennis Callaghan (source: Mitcham and Colliers Wood Gazette 22nd June 1972)

1925 – Mrs. J. O’Neill
1902 – Ellen Kettle
1896 – Samuel Ezekiel Kettle & Mrs. Ellen Kettle
1875 – John Marchant Penfold
1870 – James Marchant Penfold
1867 – Mrs. Maria Chandler
1851 – James Townsend
1837 – Henry James Hoare
1824 – William Pithouse
1822 – Ann Ritchie

Disco Pub

In 1972 owner Charram Ltd, part of brewery Bass Charrington, converted it into a disco pub.

1972 ad from the Mitcham and Colliers Wood Gazette, colourised by Google Gemini


The Battle for Collier’s Wood: How a “Mind Blowing” Disco Pub Sparked a Residents’ Revolt in 1972 London

The conflict is timeless: a new business opens, and the quiet rhythm of a neighborhood is suddenly disrupted. Disputes over noise, parking, and a new crowd of people can quickly escalate into a battle for the very soul of a community. While these stories play out in towns and cities every day, few are as perfectly preserved in amber as the one found in a collection of 1972 newspaper clippings from South London. This is the wild, hyperlocal history of the Red Lion Disco Pub—a culture clash that pitted Go-Go Girls and groovy tunes against a residents’ association threatening “militant action.”

A New Kind of Nightlife Sparks a Fire

In 1972, an advertisement for the Red Lion at 62 High Street, Collier’s Wood, promised a revolution in local entertainment. It wasn’t just a pub; it was a “Fabulous Disco-Pub!” and “It’s South London’s latest disco!” The ad trumpeted “dancing seven nights a week,” the “Latest discs!” spun by a “Top D.J.!”, and the presence of “Go-Go Girls.” It urged patrons to “Come and do your thing!” in an atmosphere it declared both “Groovy!” and “Mind Blowing.”

This hybrid venue represented a seismic cultural shift. For a London suburb accustomed to the traditional quiet pint, the fusion of a local pub with the loud, vibrant, youth-driven energy of a modern disco was an entirely new and disruptive concept. The Red Lion wasn’t just offering a drink; it was importing a high-energy, city-center nightlife experience directly into a residential neighborhood.

“Militant Action” and a Neighborhood “Polluted with Riff-Raff”

The arrival of the disco pub was not met with universal enthusiasm. As one April headline in the Mitcham and Colliers Wood Gazette bluntly stated, the “Red Lion Pub Row Hots Up.” Residents felt “plagued” by the pub’s patrons, and their response—a blend of formal civic organizing and populist rage—is a classic example of a community reacting to perceived cultural intrusion.

Initially, the opposition was procedural. The Collier’s Wood Residents’ Association, led by its secretary Mr. Percy Whiffin, began organizing public meetings to plan their strategy. They launched a petition to have the pub’s music and dancing licence revoked, a campaign that gained significant traction, gathering nearly 500 signatures.

But as the weeks wore on, the frustration escalated dramatically. By May, the newspaper was reporting on a “stormy meeting” where residents threatened to take “militant action.” The core complaints centered on “parking, tight hooliganism and misuse of property”—the term “tight hooliganism” likely referring to drunken or loutish behavior. The strength of local feeling was captured in one resident’s fiery statement:

“We have become polluted with riff-raff who don’t even live around here. It would be a good idea if we withheld our rates or even circle the pub to stop people from going in.”

This wasn’t simply a two-sided war. The pub’s owners, Charrington, became a third party in the conflict. Mr. Wray, a general manager for the company, met with residents and assured them Charrington “had taken up the problem very seriously,” and the company put up notices inside the pub asking patrons to be quiet when leaving.

The New Manager Who Found the Chaos “Quite Enjoyable”

Thrown into the middle of this escalating war was Dennis Callaghan, the 28-year-old Irishman who had taken over as manager of the controversial pub just three weeks prior. Surrounded by angry residents and intense media scrutiny, Callaghan offered a surprisingly calm perspective on the chaos. His cheerful detachment provides a fascinating counterpoint to the high emotional stakes of the residents, highlighting the gap in perspective between the provider of the new entertainment and the recipients of its consequences.

Instead of expressing frustration, he told the Gazette he was taking the entire “row” in stride. He also defended his establishment, arguing that the troublemakers were a minority. “There was rarely any trouble inside the pub,” he stated, adding that “residents rarely appreciate that.” In an earlier interview, he had offered this moment of unexpected levity:

“This is the first disco pub I have run but it is quite enjoyable. Once all this trouble is sorted out I am sure I will enjoy working here all the more.”

The Strange Victory Where the Disco Pub Stayed Open

After months of dispute, the case went before the Greater London Council’s public services entertainments licensing sub-committee. The final newspaper headline announced a bizarre and unsatisfying conclusion for all involved: “VICTORY FOR RESIDENTS – BUT DISCO PUB STAYS”.

The residents had technically won. The council agreed with their complaints and revoked the Red Lion’s music and dancing licence. However, the pub’s owners, Charrington, immediately filed an appeal. This legal maneuver allowed the pub to continue operating as a full-fledged disco for at least another four weeks while the appeal was processed.

This ambiguous result left both sides feeling “disappointed.” For manager Dennis Callaghan, the threat still loomed. For Mr. Percy Whiffin, the win was hollow. Despite the militant talk from some residents, his stated goal had been “to keep the peace” and work towards a “mutual satisfaction for both sides.” The ruling achieved a legal victory but guaranteed that the neighborhood’s fundamental conflict would continue.

Source: blog report generated by Google NotebookLM using scans of editions of the Mitcham and Colliers Wood Gazette.

C.F. Anderson timber merchants

Timber merchants that was at 117 – 125 London Road, Mitcham.

clip of 1974 photo by Eric Montague, reproduced by kind permission of the Merton Historical Society

The company was started in 1863 by Charles Frederick Anderson in Islington. His ancestors had been farmers on the northern shore of St. Mary’s Loch, in the Scottish Border country. They had moved to London before the end of the 18th century and settled in Islington which, at that time, was a quiet countryside of dairy farms, supplying Londoners with milk. One of these, James Anderson, was a cheesemonger. It was his grandson, Charles Frederick, born in 1834, who went into the timber business. He started as an apprentice with a timber merchant who was so struck by his ability that he was offered a position in the firm. But Charles was eager to be his own master, and he started as a timber dealer in 1863, renting a piece of land at 13 Essex Road, Islington. He built his own shed as an office, and stored wood in the yard.

The business grew steadily and, in 1899 when he died, his son William Frederick took over. In 1902 he opened a branch in Southgate and in 1904 at no. 19 Essex Road, he opened a glass and ironmongery department. This was managed by a glazier named A.E. summers who had been looking for accommodation for his wife and himself. He took the rooms above the shop on condition he be its manager, and stayed employed by Andersons for the next 50 years.

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From the Mitcham News & Mercury, 22nd April 1977, page 1:

A MITCHAM firm devastated by fire last week was damaged to the tune of £100,000.
Eighty firemen fought for three hours to control the blaze at Andersons timber merchants in London Road.
It started, at 11.45 pm on Wednesday night and quickly spread through
offices and timber stores. Police closed off the road for a couple of hours and an ambulance stood by, but no one was injured.
How it started is a mystery and Mitcham CID are still making enquiries.

Main article on page 3:

A HUGE MYSTERY fire gutted part of a Mitcham timber merchants last week. Damage is estimated in excess of £100,000, including
lost income, and about one-third of its storage capacity has been lost. And police are still uncertain about the cause of the blaze.
It happened at about 11.45 pm on Wednesday, at C. F. Anderson and Son Ltd, in London Road, and soon spread through offices and timber
stores.

Eighty men from Mitcham, Wallington, Tooting, Wimbledon and Norbury fire stations were called, and 13 fire-fighting appliances were used,
including two emergency tenders. It took three hours to get under control, and police closed off the road for a short
time as a safety precaution. An ambulance stood by in case of injuries but wasn’t needed.

How the fire started is a mystery. Det Sgt Andrew Boardley of Mitcham CID is leading enquiries. When asked if he thought it was started deliberately, he said: “No comment. We are still investigating the incidents.” Despite the extent of the damage, which devastated one single-storey building and a large amount of building materials, the firm is still operating. “It has seriously affected normal business, though,” commented a senior executive. “It is a tragic thing to happen to such a small place, but every effort will be made to maintain the yard. We hope to be back on our feet as soon as possible. “There’s no way the fire could have been caused by an electrical fault as the building has just been re-wired,” he added.

The firm, whose headquarters are in Islington, import and distribute timber and various other building materials.

ad from 1972 yearbook of Eastfields High School