Tag Archives: White Hart

The oldest pubs in Mitcham – according to parish records

From the Mitcham Advertiser – Thursday 07 July 1927

MITCHAM NOTES.

Why are all the public houses in High-street, Colliers Wood, on one side—the west side of the road? I asked the Chairman of the Council and he said he must have notice of the question. I asked Mr. Groom-bridge and he thanked heaven he lived in the wilderness on the other side. I asked Coun. Cusden and he said “What does it matter? The beer is just as good at Cusden’s Stores.” I asked Jack Fitch and he said it was a shame. I asked George Bennett and he said that was one of the inequalities the Labour Party was out to remove. I asked Thirsty Bill, who has often been fined 10s. and costs for being all on one side himself, and he said, “Hie-wash-wash I get for tellin’ ya!”

So I led the way to the Blue Nose and Slop Basin and called for two acid drops. Thirsty Bill’s eyesight is getting bad and in mistake he drank both. “Shay, guv’nor,” he hiccoughed, “don’t-tcha berlieve it.” “Believe what?” I asked. “Thash all pubs in thish—thish street—hic—thash all pubs in any streetsh on one sidesh. Nope. Sh’all wrong. Man who shesh pubs in thish tsreetsh all on one shide—sidesh ish—hic—ish drunk.”

In desperation I asked Mr. R. M. Chart. Mr. Chart knows more about the pubs of Mitcham than any man. This statement, I hope, will be taken in the right spirit. With his usual courtesy he let me waste his time while I propounded the more or less important question then said “It’s an interesting point certainly, and, I think, easily explained.”

Mr. Chart reminded me that unknown to many of the residents of Colliers Wood a brook flows down the east side of High-street into the Wandle at Merton. It is under the roadway and was covered in within living memory. It is the same stream that protects Mitcham from Tooting. “It is reasonable to suppose,” he added, “that when High-street was a rural way with an open brook along the whole of its east side the roadside inns were built on the west side to avoid that brook.”

A simple solution, you must agree, of a great mystery to you and me. Evidently mine host of the days of yore took more pains than does Boniface of to-day to pre-vent his customers from mixing their drinks—involuntarily.

It would have been utterly foolish to let Mr. Chart go without asking him for facts about the King’s Head and the grand old elm slain last week to make a motorist’s holiday.

“Time hollowed in its trunk a tomb for centuries,
And buried there the epochs of the rise and fall of states,
The fading generations of the world,
The memory of men.”

Mr. Chart not only enlightened me about the King’s Head and the elm, but gave me historical notes of a dozen other Mitcham hostelries. The earliest mention of the King’s Head in the Parish Records of Mitcham is under date 1732. There is evidence, however, that the house was erected in the Elizabethan period, for it is a very old timber framed building re-faced with brickwork. The elm, lamented as much by tea sloppers as by froth blowers, was probably more than 250 years old.

On the occasions when the Prince of Wales (afterwards King Edward) attended Epsom Races and changed horses at the King’s Head, as told in the “Advertiser” last week, the Village Beadle, William Hills, a builder and a fine portly man, who lived at Vine Cottage, Lower Green, the oldest house in Mitcham, was always present in gold laced uniform ostensibly to keep the crowd in order. After one cere-mony of the kind he received a letter written on notepaper crowned with the Royal Arms thanking him for his atten-tion and services.

Mr. Chart thinks the Beadle never knew that he was the victim of a parish wag, for he was always fond of exhibiting the letter. Mr. Hills was also the Town Crier. He paraded the village with a hand bell and always wound up his orations on the subject of the lost sheep or other matters with the pious and loyal sentiment “God Save the Queen.” To which the children, who usually followed in his train, added “And hang the Crier!”

The Bull, Church-road, is first mentioned in parish records in 1753, so it appears to be the second oldest inn in Mitcham. Un-doubtedly all the inns were in existence long before the dates given. The Buck’s Head is mentioned in 1776. It was re-built about twenty years ago and set back 10-ft. from its original frontage on London-road.

The White Hart, beloved of Councillors, and, if I remember aright, of church-wardens of other days, came to the official notice of Mitcham in 1784. The King’s Arms, formerly a timber framed building on a site north of the present building, was first recorded in 1787. The Red Lion (Colliers Wood) comes into prominence in 1792 and two years later the Nag’s Head, a timber building except the front, is men-tioned, as is also the Swan.

The Goat comes next into the records in the year 1805. In 1819 the Half Moon shone at the corner of Lock’s-lane, but it has long since set to rise no more. The Six Bells, Merton Bridge, can also be traced back to 1819. A year later the Cricketers Inn is officially taken notice of, but I have a feeling that it was unofficially observed long before that time, particularly by sportsmen with a dry humour.

The last pub turned up by Mr. Chart was the Phoenix, first mentioned in 1838. It justified its name some years ago by rising out of its dead ashes as the Horse and Groom. Of the Sportsman, which formerly gave Dutch courage to those about to enter Love-lane, there is no official record at all. Which only shows you that the Vestry Clerk of that day, like the last of his line, was a gentleman of discretion.

If Mr. Gaston had been a member of the Fire Brigade Committee, or a follower of the statesman who urged all public per-sons to verify their references, he would not have “made the bloomer” of assuming that the Chief Officer was advocating the purchase of a foam generator like “the only one in London.” That is a machine the size of a motor pump and costing as much. Mr. Wells clearly stated in his report (in front of Mr. Gaston as he spoke) that the machine he had in mind would cost £75. He also clearly stated that his remarks and suggestions were “applicable to the storage of inflammable liquids that do not come within the provisions of the Petroleum Act.”

Now I say that as certain councillors do not come within the provisions of the Petroleum Act it is the duty of the rest to safeguard themselves and Mitcham by the purchase of a continuous foam extinguisher not generator. If one can be got for £75 and will prevent Coun. Groombridge, for instance, from bursting into flames more than fifty times at one meeting it will be a real economy to buy it.

THE COMMONER.

This text was extracted using Google’s AI Studio, model “Gemini 2.5 Pro Preview 03-25 gemini-2.5-pro-preview-03-25”, with the prompt “extract the text from this 1927 newspaper article” against the downloaded article image from the British Newspaper Archive.

Image © Successor rightsholder unknown. Please contact support@britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk if you wish to claim rights to this title.. Image created courtesy of THE BRITISH LIBRARY BOARD.

Hearn & Sons, butchers, 252 London Road

Hearn & Sons Butchers
252 London Road,
Mitcham,
CR4 3HD

Ad from 1962 issue of the South Warder, the journal of the South Mitcham Residents’ Association

This was a branch of the firm of butchers, as shown in these telephone book entries:

1971 phone book entry

1954 phone book entry

1951 OS map reproduced by permission of the National Library of Scotland, reuse CC-BY (NLS)

This photo, taken in September 2022, shows no. 252 on the left, next to the alleyway.

There is an undated photo of this part of London on Merton Memories. The view shows a shop with a canopy over the pavement, the next shop is Paine’s off-licence, and then Woolworths. Note the crowd of people waiting outside.

The following is from Tim Pearson, who posted this as a comment on the Mitcham Notes YouTube channel, and is reproduced here with his permission:

Hearn & Sons Butchers – Boy in a Mans World

Sometime in 1975, me and Mungo (Steve) went for a walk to look for a job, as everyone else had paper rounds or worked on the milk, so we thought we would try the butcher shops in Mitcham. The nearest one was the little butcher shop next door to the Bull, Mungo went in first as we were going to take turns and I was gonna ask at the next shop. Mungo drew a blank so it was up to me next, we stopped at Hearns and I meekly went through the door and spoke to the manager, asked and he said come in on Saturday. Result!!!

Saturday Boy

So, that Saturday morning at 8 o’clock, there I was getting thrown the butcher’s coat and an apron and got to work, bloody hell did I work hard. There was a lot to do on the Saturday, when I first arrived in the morning I’d have to get the meat out of the fridges as the shop men were dressing the front window, I would also be running round putting fresh sawdust on floor, putting out the blind and such jobs like that.

Once the shop was set for the day, it was time for a cup of tea and some breakfast, we had a single burner and a massive frying pan, and being in the butcher shop, what do you fancy for breakfast? Anything you like! Bacon, eggs, sausage, steak always a favourite. Then crack on with getting the orders ready, when that was done I would load the trade bike up and be on my way.

Orders and Deliveries

I used to deliver to half a dozen regular places at least, The White Hart, where I have my first-ever beer. Glebelands old peoples home. 12 Imperial Gardens. 351a London Rd, just past the White Hart. 14 Albert Rd, who always used to order the smallest 1/2 shoulder of lamb, and in the shop they called her Mrs ‘half shoulder of mouse’. Fred Grays Yard always had a nice big joint of beef, normally an Aitch Bone. 6 Downe Rd, 12 Biggin Ave, next door to Steve Stroud, who had painted on his back garden gate “Beware of Mrs Stroud” Probably quite appropriate.

Fish and chips or a wimpy for lunch.

So there you go, some of my day at the butcher’s shop and how I signed up. Yeah was quite an experience, young boy working with men for the first time, but always a laugh.

Butchers

The managers name was Ken Wright, someone I tracked down recently and turned up on his doorstep one day, we sat out in the sun talking shop for an hour, was great to see him again.

There were two old shop men, one called Bert Huddy, who lived in Rutter Gardens and drove a Bren gun carrier up through Italy in the war, tea breaks were always so funny, he was like uncle Albert with the war stories, and he was always singing Al Jolson’s Mammy. Ernie, I can’t remember his last name but used to drive an Austin and he was a miserable old sod.

Then there was Bernie Taylor, he was older…35 ish, a more experienced butcher who used to work mainly on the blocks out the back, he could tear down a hind quarter into joints quicker than quick, he was a great butcher and funny man.

Also out the back were two young butchers. Keith Badham, he knew how to sling a boning knife, and Clive Jones who was quite a funny bloke, and myself on a Saturday. All for 2 pounds and a big bag of meat for my mum. I thought it was a good deal, but was a lot of graft.

Work

When I came back from doing the round, and sorted the cash, I’d have to go and do the stock and clean the fridges with one of the butchers. We had a big big scale and a steelyard, and every Saturday used to take every bit of meat out of the fridge one at a time, weigh it, log it and restock it.

Fridges needed cleaning as well so I’d stack all the stock at one end, sweep out, then wash it and bleach it with bucket and brooms, throw fresh sawdust down and move all the stock back. And that’s all before lunchtime! In between time that there was always a chicken or 2 to be trussed, which was obviously my job.

After lunch, the shop was starting to wind down as most of the trade had been done before 2 o’clock, I had already scrubbed two of the blocks earlier and the shop men were clearing the trays and the green strips from the front fridge out the back to the kitchen, where I was washing up, plenty of soap, plenty of bleach, lovely smells clean.

Also, in the afternoon 3 of us would go to the night safe at the Nat West with the weeks takings, always tooled up, a trussing needle being my choice, but thankfully never needed.

As time went on and the shop was getting clear, I`d pull in the blind, sweep the shop and put fresh sawdust down, we pulled the shutters down at 3:30 and I`d wander home with my big bag of meat, the manager really always looked after us and I’d have a joint of beef, pork or whatever was going, and a load of sausages, bacon, ham, eggs, there were always a few chops in there too, happy days!

This also appears on Tim Pearson’s website.