I moved to Toronto over half a century ago and remember all
the hubbub surrounding the city getting a subway system in the mid-1950s. Yet, when
I think back to London’s massive underground, with its almost 300 stations on
11 different lines, Toronto’s piddling effort pales in comparison.
Having spent my childhood in a smallish town some 9 miles
outside of London and then serving in the Far East during wartime, I wasn't at
all familiar with the vast and confusing “Tube” when first put out on the
street as a young police constable in 1947.
By that time, London's underground rail system had been
around for so long that many of the original stations had already been
replaced, or rendered useless after the introduction of new and improved subway
lines.
One such station was St. Mary's on Whitechapel Road, which was on my
beat in the east end of London. It had originally opened in the late 1800's and
was eventually closed up a year or so prior to WWII after being deemed
superfluous.
Closure didn't signal the immediate demise of St. Mary's
though, as during the war the platforms were utilized as an air-raid
shelter. I've often thought that while
subway air-raid shelters certainly saved lives, they weren't always the safest
place to be, especially if the enemy's target was the railway line!
One event kept from the general public until after war's end
was the shelter tragedy at Bethnal Green tube station in March of 1943.
Well over a thousand people were crammed on the platforms when
panic ensued after an “explosion” was heard. Unbeknownst to the crowd, it was merely an anti-aircraft rocket. The masses swarmed the stairs and one person's stumble caused a ripple
effect with several people falling one on top of another, resulting in nearly
200 being crushed to death.
As for St. Mary's, I've never heard of any fatalities during
its use as an air-raid shelter, but the street level station was hit by a bomb
during the blitz and severely banged up.
A temporary replacement was quickly put up, which was also hit within
weeks. That was finally the end of the line for St. Mary's altogether.
After the war was over, people still managed to make their
way down to St. Mary's abandoned platforms and one night I was sent to
investigate. My task was to hustle out
drunks seeking a spot to sleep it off, juveniles intent on exploration, couples in the darkness involved in romantic trysts and homeless souls who had set up
residence.
Mind you, I was told leeway was usually given to a certain elderly
married couple who were living on the streets by their wits, relying on the
largesse of street vendors for food, sleeping in the park and taking to St.
Mary's for refuge once the bad weather set in.
When I made my way down that night and reached the platform it
was easy to imagine the station in livelier times. Dusty and faded coloured adverts remained plastered to
the walls – a jaunty sailor asking for "Player's Please" and a child
beckoning the winged symbol of "Robin Starch" come to mind.
A grimy penny vending machine stood on the platform,
although I didn't see any Nestle's chocolate bars left in the slots. Immediately adjacent to that was a
coin-operated weighing scale where you could use your next penny to see the
effects of all those chocolate purchases.
Except for the sound of scurrying rats, it was eerily quiet
as I shone my flashlight around the dark, musty platform. That is until I heard a familiar, yet
very confusing, sound - the rumbling of an oncoming train!
The noise became ever louder and I couldn't help but peer
into the tunnel anticipating the train's light, even though it was obvious the
tracks had been long in disuse.
I shook my head a few times trying to make sense of it all.
That's when I noticed the floor shaking beneath my feet as the invisible train
approached and then rushed by causing dust to rise up from the platform, with
the hairs on my neck following suit.
That was it for me. I’d had enough and ran up the station
steps two at a time and out into the street.
I didn't relate my tale of the phantom train to anyone for
fear of being mocked (or locked up). It wasn’t until later after some research
that I discovered one of the newer tube lines had been built right alongside
a portion of that old rail line.
So, it was the noise and effects of a speeding train
directly on the other side of the bricked-up wall of the St. Mary's platform
I'd been standing on that had me scratching my head and scurrying out in terror.
Blimey, what a relief to know I hadn't lost
the plot after all.
