Isn’t it intriguing to think what the old inn signs looked like? We get hints from time to time when an old sign resurfaces and of course, representation exists of some of the old signs, albeit in sketch format. All of the pictures below that appear in early 20th century books about inn signs share the same names as old Cambridge Inns
Pictures from:
Endell, Fritz August Gottfried (1916) ‘Old Tavern Signs, An Excursion in the History of Hospitality’ Riverside Press, Cambridge. Accessed from Project Gutenberg
Larwood, Jacob and Hotten, John Camden (1908) ‘The History of Signboards From the Earliest Times to the Present Day’ Chatto and Windus, London. Accessed from Project Gutenberg.
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I recently bought, on spec from Ebay, a collection of 48 mini-pub signs. They are hand-painted and almost all of them are mounted behind a piece of perspex of exactly corresponding size. They are mostly about 3”x 2” with a few as long as 5”. Some are depicted ‘as the sign’ and some are painted ‘of the sign’ – for example ‘The Whistling Duck’ in the gallery below. Pub names are, for the most part, written using letraset. Sometimes the writing is on the painting, sometimes on the perspex.
A small selection of the sample pub signs in my collection
Does anyone know what they were for? Were they samples of an artist’s work? It’s a puzzle.
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Publican, Gunmaker, Champion Sparrow Shot of England
When I am researching the pubs of Cambridge and am looking at a data set of pub landlords from 1841 (for instance), my eye is always drawn to the interesting names. This is due in no small part to the fact that on this list, and this is no exaggeration, 50% of all landlords – indeed probably 50% of all Victorian males – were called William. What’s more, because it’s Cambridge, another large chunk of landlords share the surnames Tarrant, Low and Apthorpe. So, when you see names like Israel Haggis, Reuben Creamer, and Remington Pratt – they leap out at you. In my mind Reuben Creamer and his oddly named friends start shouting from the middle of the 19th century, “Pick me! Pick me!” much as the donkey does in the Dreamwork’s ‘Shrek’. I guess, the responsible way to go about this research is to start at the beginning of the alphabet and work through the list methodically – but for me the temptation is always too great. Sometimes, midst the drudgery of determining which William Low is the William Low I am looking for among the fifteen William Lows that all live in the same street I am researching, I need to allow myself some quick fixes – research lollipops – that make the work come quickly alive. Of course, the reason is because having an unusual name makes individuals much easier to research. So it was with Sheriff Warrell.
The first thing I found out about him was that he had run a Cambridge pub ‘The Hope and Anchor” in, what became, Fitzroy Street and what was, in 1850, called Blucher Row. He was clearly a colourful character as a search for him in newspaper archives revealed numerous references.
Sheriff Warrell was born 21 Nov 1819 in Gedney, Lincolnshire to farmer, grazier and publican John Warrell (1769–1832) and his wife Hannah Blades (1799–1879). He got the name Sheriff from his mother, whose surname it was. We can assume that Sheriff grew up in and around pubs. His father sold one pub in 1828 (The New Inn in Gedney, Lincs) and took over another in 1830 (the Golden Fleece in Boston, Lincs). However the latter move was not a profitable one as he was bankrupt by 1831.
In 1838 Sheriff married Anne Shelton in 1838 in Nottingham and the pair of them were still living there in 1841. We don’t know much about Anne or indeed about Sheriff’s time in Nottingham.
By 1849 we find him in Cambridge and attracting the attention – not for the last time – of the courts. He is up before the court for taking on Mr. Cole the famous pawnbroker of Bridge Street. Unsatisfied with Mr. Cole’s service, Sheriff leapt over the pawnshop counter ready to assault the shop owner – only to get peremptorily bopped on the head by said wily proprietor. Sheriff won the case. In the following year he was accused and acquitted of larceny. He was not so lucky however with the magistrates responsible for the licensing of pubs. It is not clear why, but the licensing authorities felt unable to renew his inn license in 1850. Perhaps because of this, he moved out of Cambridgeto Portsmouth sometime around 1852. One of the first things he did there was apply for a license to drive a cab.
In 1857 he married Jane Elizabeth BRACHER (1837–1873) and they straightway set about having at least 10 children together. More or less at the same time he took over the pub the ‘Ship Kent’ a pub in St. Mary Street, Portsmouth and clearly had some issues with some sort of scandal that he felt he needed to nip in the bud.
Mr. WARRELL, of the SHIP KENT, St. Mary-street, Portsmouth is given to understand that two or three people in this island appear to know his business better than he knows it himself; and the same parties are likewise using his name rather too free, in a manner that is not altogether palatable. He cautions them to be careful what they say, or else, if he fair hold of them, he will put them where they will not have the free use of their tongues, Advert in
Hampshire Telegraph 24 Jul 1858
Sheriff was a keen ‘sporting’ gambler and seemed prepared to bet on almost anything. Here is a short list of just some of his ‘sporting’ endeavours
Sparrow Shooting – claiming to be “the Champion Sparrow Shot of England” he took on challengers from around the country. In one such case, with stakes of £30 he took turns shooting sparrows – 50 birds at 25 yards with 1½oz of shot. He killed 28 birds and his challenger shot 19.
Pony Trotting – Sheriff took on or proposed trotting matches on a variety of courses – often with his pony “Crazy Jane” – in circuits round a field or from “Horndean to Waterloo”
Rat Killings – when still at the pub in Portsmouth he organised competitive rat killing by dogs. 50 live rats would be given to the dogs in an enclosed space to see which of them would kill the rats in the fastest time. This was a weekly attraction.
Pony vs. Bicycle – later in his life, presumably unable to take on personal challenges due to his increasing age, he continued to indulge his love of betting on sport by organising eye-catching and publicity-attractive stunts – in this case by pitting one of his ponies in a race against the famous champion French cyclist Camille Thuillet. The pony won.
Charles Blondin (1824 – 1897), French tightrope walker and acrobat, carrying his manager Harry Colcord on a tightrope. Creative Commons.
In 1870 Blondin, famous for crossing the Niagra Falls on a tightrope, undertook a one-week residence at a music hall in Portsmouth. Who should appear in the adverts for the event – as someone who would be carried across the tightrope on Blondin’s back, emulating the stunt (in the picture above) when Blondin’s manager was taken across the Niagra Falls? None other than ‘respected townsman’ Sheriff Warrell.
In 1882 at Windsor railway station Roderick Maclean attempted to assassinate Queen Victoria with a pistol. Maclean’s motive was purportedly a curt reply to some poetry that he had mailed to the Queen.
Roderick Maclean was arrested and at his trial it emerged that a Portsmouth pawnbroker had sold him the gun and that Sheriff Warrell had sold him the cartridges (19 of them for one shilling).
As we have seen already, whether as witness, plaintiff or defendant, Sheriff was no stranger in the law courts. He was constantly in and out – stealing turf from the common, having dangerous dogs in public without muzzles, or, on more than one occasion, being drunk in charge of a pony and trap.
One such occasion, in 1888, he brought a case against a company who were undertaking road improvements near his house, and it is particularly revealing – about his drinking habits and his general swagger. Returning from Hambledon races in his pony and trap he ran into the excavations made in the road. His trap was overturned, and both he and his pony both received injuries. He maintained he had in consequence incurred £50 of expenses. The court case hung on whether there was negligence on the part of the company for not properly lighting the road hazard – or whether the accident was due to Mr Warrell’s inebriation. The reports on the case demonstrate Sheriff’s love of liquor as well as his not inconsiderable charm. Under cross examination he stated the following:
He prided himself on the speed of his pony, and could go when he liked as fast as anyone in England. He met a good many friends at the races and had something to drink when he was thirsty. He did not get thirsty very often. (Laughter) He had his dinner and bottle of ale with it; a glass of ale at Waterloo, and one or two after dinner ; did not have three.
He had nothing but beer on the racecourse but had something else on the road home. He arrived at Waterloo at about half-past six. He remained there till about eight to give his pony a little hay and water, and he was a little thirsty there he had something to drink. At Waterloo he had some split soda and brandy. He might have had two or three, but not more. They did not give much brandy at Waterloo for threepence. (Laughter.)
He knocked a man down at Waterloo for using bad language, calling him (witness) “chuckle head.” He did not knock anybody else down as no one else required it. He got to before he was thirsty again.
Seeing some traps on the road made him thirsty again. He stopped at the George, Cosham, till closing time. He had some more sodas and brandies there. He could drink one hundred sodas and brandy and not get tight. If he wanted to get tight he should have drunk hot brandy or hot whiskey.
Back on the road he did not hear any one shout to him before the accident, or he should have heard them. He could not be deaf as well as blind. He was perfectly sober after four or five glasses of beer and six sodas and brandy. If Mr. Burbidge could make any one believe that would make a man drunk he ought to be ashamed of himself. He could have got £100 for the pony, trap, and harness before the accident, but any man could have it that day for £40. The pony walked home, but it was very lame.
Amazingly, the jury found for the plaintiff and awarded him £50 damages without costs. Source: Portsmouth Evening News Friday 08 July 1881.
Sheriff continued in the pub trade running The Royal Naval Club – a club was formed by four Royal Naval Lieutenants serving on board HMS Bellerophon anchored off Spithead in September 1867. From those humble beginnings grew a Club of international prestige and importance graced by kings and princes which at one stage could claim to have one hundred and sixty Admirals on the books. Over the years no fewer than 19 members of the club have been recipients of the Victoria Cross.
Sheriff Warrell died on Portsea Island in 1896. Hampshire,
POSTSCRIPT: Spotted in 2019 on the internet:
S. Warrell English. A rare 4 bore single barrel breech loading back action hammer wildfowling shotgun by English maker, S. Warrell, Circa 1880. Built on a Jones Patent underlever opening system with hammer action. The 44-inch round barrel with fine Damascus twist engraved pattern retaining much of its brown finish, the scroll engraved lock and action also retains much of the original color. Well figured stock chequered at wrist and forearm and insert with silver oval. Good quality, back side lock. A fine example of late 19th Century English gun making. Price: $8,800.00
Publican, Naval Seaman, Custodian of the University Bathing Shed
John Beeton (1837-1890), was, for the last 21 years of his life, the publican at the Zebra on Maid’s Causeway. Like so many other publicans of his generation, he also had another job. In his case, it was a particularly interesting one as he was the Custodian of the Cambridge University Bathing Shed at Grantchester meadows and a university swimming coach. In part, because we know this about him, we are able to piece together a remarkably full portrait of him. We know, for example, that he was 5’5’’tall, that he had brown hair, a fair complexion, grey eyes and a burn on his right forearm.
The Zebra as it was before the 1930s rebuild. Photo Cambridgeshire Collection.
John Roe Beeton was born 29th March 1837 in Market Deeping, Lincolnshire. At the age of 18 he volunteered for the Royal Navy and was initially assigned to the training ship – the HMS Illustrious.
His first ship in her prime 1811 . HMS Illustrious heading out of Table Bay (T Whitcombe, c.1811) Creative Commons.
HMS Illustrious (1803) was launched at Rotherhithe in 1803 and was like her predecessor a 74-gun third rate. She was involved in battles off the Basque Roads, in which she won a battle honour, and off Java in Indonesia. On 22 November 1810, Illustrious was amongst the fleet that captured Île de France on 3 December. She then took part in the Invasion of Java (1811) in Indonesia. She was refitted at Portsmouth (1813–17) and then laid up in reserve until recommissioned in 1832. She was laid up again in 1845, and later used as a guard-ship, a hospital ship and, lastly, in 1854 she became a gunnery training ship and continued as one until she was broken up in 1868 in Portsmouth.
In 1861 he was working as an Able Seaman aboard the 4-gun Royal Naval vessel HMS Ringdove, which at the time was moored off Shanghai, China.
John signed up to the navy for 10 years in 1855 and by 1866 he was back on dry land – in Cambridge where he married local girl Emily ROCKETT (1846-78). Soon after, in 1869, John and his wife, took over the Zebra. At the time he was granted his license he had already been appointed swimming master to the university.
The University’s swimming club was founded in 1855. Training took place in the River Cam at the University Bathing Sheds at Grantchester Meadows. Here the course of the river is reasonably straight for 120 yards and hence is suitable for racing. On the grassland by the river there were horizontal bars, a trapeze and a 15-foot diving tree. The club quickly established an emphasis on competitive swimming with many inter-collegiate competitions taking place and galas staged against London swimming clubs. The events competed in were various distances from 30 yard to a quarter mile depending on the venue, plunging, steeplechase, a race in clothes and water polo.
The Cambridge Chronicle and Journal on the 3rd August 1872 reported that Beeton had overseen an event at Grantchester that involved 50, 100, & 200 and 660 yard races, a plunge competition (distance diving) and all of the previous as handicap races including “headers, running and from the tree”. Races were open to all those undergraduates “who have been taught the art and mystery of swimming by Beeton, the swimming master”.
In 1877 he took on a commercial sideline at the pub by being the local sole-agent for what was advertised as “the best smoking mixture” – Wood’s Oriental – which he sold for 6 shillings per pound.
In 1878 his wife Emily died. He was remarried in 1881 to Maria Golding (1845-89). Ten years on from his second marriage John Beeton made the news …
On Saturday the well-known and popular teacher of swimming at the University Sheds, Mr. John Beeton, was happily enabled to save three lives. About 12.30 he was entering the sheds, when he heard cries for help. He found Mr. Benham, head master the King’s School, on the bank calling for assistance for three boys who were struggling for life in mid-stream. Mr Beeton, without hesitation, threw off his coat and jumped into the river, and, with great exertion, was fortunately able to bring all three alive to the opposite bank, though he was greatly exhausted, encumbered as he was with heavy pair of shooting boots and thick clothing, which he was ordered to wear by his medical adviser, as he has recently been suffering from an attack of bronchitis. Mr. Beeton was unfortunate enough to lose £3 3s. from his waistcoat pocket, and a watch and chain which had been presented to him. All would inevitably have been drowned had not such timely assistance been at hand.
Cambridge Chronicle and Journal – Friday 03 August 1888
On the evening of Sunday June 2nd 1889 all seemed normal in the Beeton household. Maria, John’s second wife, had been working in the bar. At quarter past ten, when John went to bed, Maria stayed up to get some food – two eggs and some bread and butter ready for him to take in the morning. Unusually, John slept in a different room to his wife but at quarter past five in the morning he examined her room and found that his wife was missing but that the bed had been used.
At a quarter to seven that morning three lads from Chesterton on their way for a swim in the river between the Pike and Eel and the Railway Bridge saw something in the river, which at first sight appeared to be weeds. On closer inspection they found it to be the body of a woman – Maria Beeton. Further up the river, half-way between Dant’s ferry and Jesus Boathouse, Maria’s hat and shawl were found neatly arranged on the stone coping of the mouth of the sewer.
Maria’s body was taken to the Pike and Eel pub in Chesterton and an inquest was held. The Coroner remarked that the finding of the hat and shawl in the manner described pointed to suicide; but there was no evidence to show that the woman had been guilty of any or made any statement that would lead them to conclude that she had in her mind the idea of destroying her life. The jury returned a verdict to the effect that the body of the woman was found in the waters of the River Cam, but by what means it came there, there was no evidence to show. (Source: Cambridge Independent Press – 07 June 1889)
John died just 6 months later in January 1890. According to contemporary press reports he was “not in good health” following the death of his wife.
John, along with other members of his family are buried in the Mill Road Cemetery in Cambridge.
My interest in Cambridge pubs was piqued in 2018, when I worked on a music/local history project at St Matthew’s Primary School, Cambridge. The project was inspired by the re-interment of some Victorian skeletons discovered under the playground during building work; as well as leading the music project for the school, I undertook some background historical research of the area, and became more and more interested in its pubs – of which there was one for every 40 metres of street.
I expected a substantial body of literature about the pubs and inns of Cambridge, but found that there was very little, either in print or online. This was in marked contrast to, say, London, Oxford, and Hull. Local villages – Histon, Impington & Cottenham – all have books about their historic pubs – but not Cambridge.
There are two excellent websites that list existing and lost pubs – Pub wiki, and the Lost Pubs Project but the largest number of pubs listed on either of these sites 400. At the time of writing (May 2020), my list stands at 670. The closest thing we have to a book about Cambridge pubs, although only the remaining 100-or-so, is the excellent blog Pints and Pubs – from Beer to Eternity.
So, I decided to research and record the history of Cambridge pubs. When I made this rash commitment, I was sitting in a pub. Clutching my pint of Oakham’s Citra, I had a revelation – that everything we associate with Cambridge started in a pub (or inn). ‘Silicon Fen’ grew partly out of the work of the Xen project, born in the Castle Inn (Castle St). Down the road at the Baron of Beef (Bridge St), Clive Sinclair and Chris Curry were in violent discussion about Acorn Computers. Francis Crick and James Watson chose the Eagle (Bene’t St) to announce their discovery of DNA; but before that, Sir Ronald Aylmer Fisher sketched out the ‘rhesus positive trait’ on a piece of beer-stained piece of paper in the Bun Shop (St. Andrew’s Hill), and the ‘Panton Principles’, recommendations about how science should be published, took the name of the Panton Arms in which they were conceived.
It is perhaps little surprise that Samuel Pepys was a regular at the Three Tuns, Falcon Inn, Rose Inn and The Bear; more recently, another literary toper, Kingsley Amis, gave supervisions at the Merton Arms and the Little Rose.
The Black Bear (Market Passage) was Cambridge’s first concert hall; it was also where Oliver Cromwell organised the Parliamentarians during the 1640s.
The Cambridge Union first met in the Red Lion, and all Cambridge Colleges developed from hostels and inns.
Cosimo de’ Medici, Elizabeth 1, the Maharaja of Nawanagar, Charles I, Wittgenstein, Tolkien, Darwin, King Farouk, Dickens, and the entire Yeomen of the Guard – all passed through Cambridge pubs. Byron kept his pet bear in one, Thomas Cranmer kept a mistress and Trinity College kept a whole pack of dogs in another.
The inns and pubs of Cambridge have had national significance and deserve an in-depth study, one which will help historians of other subjects. This is just a beginning.
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