Paul Brown's Blog

Famously, as minister of the Metropolitan Tabernacle at the Elephant and Castle, he presided over what was then the largest church congregation in the world. But it was at the New Park Street Chapel close to Southwark Bridge, south of the river, where his London ministry began. Although a new building, the chapel, was surrounded by a mix of slum housing, enormous breweries, vinegar factories and boiler works. Spurgeon described the area as ‘dim, dirty and destitute.’

It was here that the young Spurgeon first gained renown and it was here that Tommy Medhurst first heard the great man preach.

Thomas William Medhurst grew up on the mean streets of Bermondsey, he didn’t get much in the way of formal education but schooling wasn’t really relevant to his work as a rope maker’s apprentice. As a rope maker Medhurst’s neighbours would have known his trade without having to ask him; rope makers always carried with them the aroma of the tar that they used to water proof the hemp ropes the made in those victorian rope factories. As an apprentice he would be ‘bound to his master’ for a fixed term, usually seven years. All for a few shillings a week and a pair of shoes each year if he was lucky.

Tommy Medhurst’s lack of schooling didn’t stop him writing to C H Spurgeon at New Park Street Chapel after hearing him preach, anxiously asking:

‘How am I to find Jesus? How am I to know that He died for me?’ Spurgeon took time out from his busy schedule to respond to his request. At the close of his letter Spurgeon said: ‘There is the cross, and a bleeding God-man upon it; look to Him and be saved! There is the Holy Spirit able to give you every grace. Look, in prayer, to … God, and then you will be delivered.’

Medhurst did indeed ‘look to Christ’ and receive salvation, to Spurgeon’s great delight. The two men met, and Spurgeon had the joy of baptising the new convert, who joined New Park Street. The year was 1854.

Immediately Medhurst began preaching on those grim, polluted streets surrounding the chapel. He was full of passion but some New Park Street members who heard him didn’t approve, they were shocked at what they called his ‘want of education’ and his standard of spoken English left something to be desired. They felt strongly enough to complain to the pastor Mr. Spurgeon. Medhurst should be stopped! they raged. when Spurgeon met to discuss their compaints against him, Medhurst’s response was to say: ‘I must preach… and I shall preach unless you cut off my ‘ead!’ Spurgeon was suitably impressed and it was agreed that decapitation wasn’t neccessary!

Soon, people were converted through the young man’s street preaching and joining the New Park Street congregation. Spurgeon took notice and told Medhurst he believed God was calling him to be a preacher and a pastor. The logical next step would be for Medhurst to go to college. However for many in the Victorian age (and today for that matter!), Medhurst would have been seen as unsuitable ministry material. Spurgeon, however, thought differently. He would train him and eventually the college he established would take many more like him. To this day, they equip them to serve churches and reach countless communities with the gospel.

Spurgeon, himself did not have any formal training before he became a minister. But he understood that he was an unusual character, and that others would benefit from some theological education. He certainly believed this was important for Medhurst. But what was the best way forward for his friend?

The outspoken Spurgeon was unimpressed by the various bible colleges of his day. In his view they downplayed the robust biblical theology which he adhered to. They were often too focused on the academic and not enough on the practical issues of mission and ministry.

For Tommy Medhurst, there would be additional problems. Colleges were expensive, and they assumed that their students would have already acheived a good standard of formal education. On both counts the rough young street preacher would struggle. Spurgeon decided he would train Medhurst himself. So, in July 1855, Thomas Medhurst began to study under Spurgeon’s supervision, with the pastor paying for Medhurst’s board and lodging out of his own pocket.

So, T W Medhurst became C H Spurgeon’s first-ever student. Medhurst didn’t remain on the grim streets of Southwark, his ministry expanded, he went on to pastor churches in Kingston, west London, Coleraine in Ireland, Glasgow in Scotland and Portsmouth on the south coast. During his ministry, the apprentice rope maker from Bermondsey, who’s standard of spoken English had so shocked the members of  his first church, had personally baptised almost 1,000 converts.

This acount of an almost anonymous character like Tommy Medhurst should challenge us today.

It would be gratifying to see more men and women emulating the young C H Spurgeon and be willing to exchange the comparative comfort of Cambridgeshire and similar places, for some of this nations neglected communities. Communities up and down the country from which Christians seem to have fled and then forgotten. Communites that are suffering because the traditional industries which the communities grew around have all but vanished. The jobs in which a man could take pride are hardly there any more. In some places we see generational unemployment. Little or no money; little or no hope. These communities are today’s equivelant of those vile victorian slums whose conditions shocked so many into action. Who will be motivated to go to them today with the same message of hope and good news that Spurgeon and Medhurst preached so passionately?

When it comes to potential preachers and pastors, let’s emulate the vision of C H Spurgeon and not discount people because of their lack of formal education, their limited vocabulary or their accent.  Preacher and blogger Lex Loizides put it like this:

We mustn’t overlook those who have been transformed into leaders by ‘grace and grit’, and who like Peter and the other apostles, might be considered ‘unlearned men’, or ‘unschooled, ordinary men’, as the Bible puts it (see Acts 4:13). We might be missing some ‘mighty men’.

We would have to put aside John Bunyan, Howell Harris, William Carey, DL Moody, Elijah Cadman, CH Spurgeon (perhaps the most remarkable example of self-education in a Christian leader), Smith Wigglesworth and a host of others – in fact, we might question God as to why He made His Son an apprentice labourer rather than a college lecturer!

Bermondsey Boy, Tommy Medhurst must have been an attentive student as he’d obviously taken on some of the traits of his mentor: Spurgeon once went to take a service at a place where Medhurst was well known, but where he himself had rarely preached. At the close of the service he overheard the following conversation:

‘Well, how did you like Mr Spurgeon?’

‘Oh, very well; but I would have enjoyed the service more if he hadn’t imitated our dear Mr Medhurst so much!’

Steve Hiser’s selflessness and hard work was publically and deservedly acknowledged recently at a charity boxing show in London’s east end when he was presented with the London Federation of Sports and Recreation Platinum Award for forty years of service to amateur sport by Kate Hoey MP.

In the world of football, Sir Alex Ferguson has few peers; he has been manager of Manchester United for 26 years winning trophies and plaudits at the highest level. But his longevity at the top of his chosen sport pales into insignificance when compared to Steve Hiser.

Steve is approaching his 40^th year coaching at the highest level with the Fisher. His tenure has seen the club go through an extended era of success. Hiser has had national champions and England internationals throughout his incumbency giving him a reputation as one of the most respected coaches in the history of the sport.

Steve Hiser is as enthusiastic about the club now as he was way back in 1973 when he first started coaching: “I love it here,” Hiser said “The camaraderie, the atmosphere – it’s fantastic. It’s just one big family here.”

Hiser remembers his own career well. You only have to look at him to know he’s an ex-boxer. The nose took some punishment during his pro career as a promising welterweight – which was cut short by a gash above his left eye which refused to heal properly. “I thought I was pretty good”, said Hiser. “I won my first eight fights and in my ninth I was cut in the first round and my corner pulled me out. In my next fight the same cut opened. I gave it a rest, but I just never went back.”

Originally from Deptford, Hiser fell in love with boxing at the age of five, when he would crawl underneath the tarpaulin sides of a boxing booth on Evelyn Street enthralled by the spectacle. “I loved the smells of the resin, and the colours of the shorts and the atmosphere” said Hiser, “It was brilliant – I was hooked.”

He started boxing at 11, and in 1956, aged 15, he joined Fisher. He spent nine happy years there as a boxer. Then in 1973 after a spell coaching at Eltham, he was persuaded to return to his old club. Hiser accepted, and one of the first young fighters to come under his wing was a twelve year old from Walworth by the name of Lloyd Honeyghan.

“I liked the look of him,” said Hiser. “He looked very strong, and was very, very keen. He was always here when I told him to be and he was dedicated. We took him to a show inEssex, and he was brilliant. When Honeyghan was 16, I took him to face a guy called McGarry in Coventry in the Feds final. Their fighter was a red-hot local favourite, and we were really going into the lions’ den. Lloyd matched him and then beat him. It was a great performance.”

Honeyghan is in no doubt how important Hiser was to him: “I wanted him to be my trainer when I turned pro, but he is so dedicated to the amateurs he stayed at the club. He should have been made the national coach, and it’s a shame that never happened. He is so knowledgeable. He is without a doubt the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Four times world title contender Mickey Cantwell, is another big fan of the trainer: “he is a real character” said Cantwell who was with Hiser for four years from the age of 22. “I respect him so much because he’s been there and done it himself. He knows how hard it is. He is one of the best trainers inBritain, without a doubt, but he is one of the few trainers in the game who is in it for the boys.” “I boxed for England and fought for two ABA titles under Steve. He is a tremendous man,” Cantwell added.

Middleweight Jake Brown, 23, one of the current crop of Fisher fighters said of Steve,

 When I was sixteen, I wasn’t doing much with my life, I used to hang around outside the boxing club most evenings causing mischief. One evening Steve came out and told me I didn’t have any ‘bottle’. The next night I decided to go in the gym and prove him wrong. It was one of the best things I ever did. I loved the atmosphere of the gym and the boxing gave me focus and direction for my life and really helped to straighten me out.” Brown continued, “I’ve had some success with the Fisher: London novice finalist twice and represented London against the Army but I’ve come a long way since I first went in the gym. I’m happily married now with two children and working as a firefighter. Steve Hiser has had a massive impact on my life.

Hiser strongly believes that success as a coach is not just measured in winning titles but in young people’s lives positively changed by their time in the gym. Steve understands that the young boxers need to take the work ethic, respect for others and the discipline of the gym and use it to be successful in life. He will give equal time and respect to a raw novice straight off the street as to a national champion.

One incident sticks in my mind: When a visitor to the gym praised Steve for his successes, especially with Lloyd Honeyghan; Hiser pointed at one of youngest and newest boxers in the gym gruffly stating, “He’s just as important as Honeyghan”.

It is hard to think of Manchester United Football Club without Sir Alex Ferguson at the helm. It would be equally difficult to imagine Fisher Amateur Boxing Club without Steve Hiser; even though Steve is quick to say that no one person is bigger than the club.

Anthony Whatley described a nostalgic visit he made to the Fisher a few years ago:

I was so glad I made the sentimental journey to the Fisher Club as I feel that it has played an important part in my life. It has certainly played an important part in Stevie Hiser’s life. His love for the sport was indeed clear to see. He has truly earned the respect from the lads at the club which, in fact, was the first thing I noticed on entering the gym. 

The journey from Steve Hiser’s home in Welling up to the Bermondsey gym doesn’t get any easier. “It’s hard sometimes,” he says. “But working with these kids is a pleasure. And they are good kids… I love it here don’t I?”

Saveloy and Chips

The other day, I was queuing in my local chip shop. While I was waiting for my cod and chips I overheard a conversation behind me that would have caused me to choke on my chips if they weren’t still in the fryer.

It went like this: One posh student type to another posh student type who needed a good haircut: “I think I’ll have a savaloy.” The response from Posh Boy Haircut: “What’s a saveloy?” WHAT’S A SAVELOY?! Posh Boy honestly didn’t know what a savaloy was! He had gone through twenty odd years of life not knowing about that particular culinary delight. I suppose that’s what happens when a community like Bermondsey experiences gentrification.

Jamie Keddie gave a helpful definition of gentrification in his paper “Spatiality in Gentrifying London: The Case of Bermondsey.” He desribed it as:

“where an influx of middle class residents to a working class neighbourhood brings shifts to the social composition, built form and consumption patterns.”

Advertising literature designed to promote Bermondsey to the thrusting, upward and mobile, speaks of “The vibrancy and creativity of the area” while at the same time reassuring the more prosperous prospective incomers that, actually Bermondsey is not like it used to be:

“Once the home of Dickensian villains, Bermondsey has reinvented itself and become the epicentre of an explosion of mouth watering culture.”

That promised explosion of mouth watering culture, in reality offers a luxury lifestyle that barely touches Bermondsey’s apparent edginess. This becomes obvious as the advertisers go on to mention the high end… “bars next to museums . . . a boutique hotel nestling next to a cinema”.  It’s all designed to appeal to the gentrifiers’ cultural collateral; not to the locals. Whereas the existing traditional shops that are unlikely to appeal to the tastes of the new residents are re-imagined as quaint novelties. Who of the middle class incomers would frequent Manze’s Pie ‘n’ Mash Shop?

The market stalls of Tower Bridge Road have all gone but the newly gentrified Bermondsey Square now boasts a farmer’s market, with stalls selling overpriced organic produce for the middle classes. Established communities are being displaced and diluted by the advance of gentrification. Displaced by people who generally don’t care for, or connect with the old working class ways. Diluted by people who work and socialise in a different way and in different places. Cultural apartheid?

Gentrification doesn’t stop with where people live or how they spend their money. We see gentrification in other areas of society.

In the UK we see it in an increasingly gentrified middle-class media who very effectively keep the working classes from choosing journalism as a career path by running extended intern programmes. These programmes weed out those who don’t have independent means to support them through those internships. Typically, the working class.

We’re also seeing the ‘gentrification’ of government. We have progressively posher politicians. Should we be surprised? After all, we have a government led by Old Etonians. The last time I looked there were twelve (including the Prime Minister) in cabinet posts who wear that exclusive old school tie. On top of that, according to one estimate, there are 22 millionaires in cabinet.  Recent research conducted by Policy Exchange seems to confirm that gentrification:

In 1979, almost 40% of Labour MPs had done manual or clerical work. In 2010, it was only 9%. Over the same period, the number of Labour MPs who were journalists and broadcasters more than doubled, and 11% of all MPs now have a background in PR and marketing (this was close to zero in 1979). Sixty per cent of government ministers, 54% of Conservative MPs and 40% of Liberal Democrat MPs attended fee-paying schools, compared with only 7% of the population.

Is it any wonder that our government and media often don’t seem to have a clue when it comes to the values and culture of ordinary working class communities.

Thirdly we see the impact of gentrification when we look at the church in this nation. Churches today are being gentrified in much the same way as the traditional working class communities: Wealthier people move in, resulting in the displacement of the poorer indigenous people. Church begins to cater for those wealthy, successful, influential types; this further increases the appeal to more affluent migrants while decreasing accessibility to the poorer. So often we gauge success by how many prosperous people attend our meetings and by our increasingly luxurious auditoriums, our high tech multi-media set up and professional musicianship. Church is getting posher, it’s being gentrified. Tim Chester in his blog put it like this:

Many of the divisions within evangelicalism are as much about social class as theological differences. Historically this was case in the split between ‘church’ and ‘chapel’. But it persists today: in one direction people are seen as vulgar; in the other direction people are seen as snobbish.

This class consciousness runs deep in British evangelicalism, Why does this matter? It matters because we are failing to reach the British working class with the gospel. Evangelicalism has become a largely middle class, professional phenomenon. When we invite people to our dinners and our guest services, we invite our friends, our relatives and our rich neighbours. We do not invite the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame. What is at stake is the grace of God.

I was talking with a prominent evangelical church leader and asked him why more people did not adopt a household model of church. The church leader was candid in his reply: ‘Because people like me come from professional backgrounds and we want churches that reflect our backgrounds. I don’t want to be opening my home to people. I don’t want to get involved in people’s lives. I don’t want needy people in my church. Before people like me went into Christian ministry we were lawyers, doctors, businessmen. And when we get involved in ministry we bring those values with us. We want to lead growing churches with professional people, church administrators, healthy budgets. We want church to be a well run organisation with polished presentations.’

A friend of mine described the gentrification of the church she is part of. A church that mutated from being a community of people, meeting in rented halls and being accessible to the poorer and marginalised in society, a bit rough round the edges; to a professional looking conference centre full of mobile middle class Christians.  They raised the money to buy a new building on the outskirts of town and spent lots more money to renovate it. They achieved the desired image. An image that appeals to the professional classes. The bespoke parquet flooring, the hardwood doors the cool lampshades. The poorer people in the centre of town can’t or won’t travel the extra distance to meetings. The result? A gentrified church.

There’s a wide spread idea (often churned out by a gentrified government and regurgitated by large sections of a gentrified media) that the old working class has collapsed into some morally debauched, feckless, workshy mob. This is a myth that needed exposing. It’s as if the real working class culture and values are being airbrushed out of existence.

As Christians, we must not relate to the working classes in the same way as the ‘gentrifiers’. They either completely ignore working class culture or are condescending and patronizing toward it. Most churches today find little problem in accepting the reality of different racial and ethnic groups. So why should we find it difficult to accept the reality of different social classes within our own British society?

Society in modern Britain is acutely divided by wealth and power.  Haves and have-nots. Country Estate and sink estate. Why does the church in modern Britain seem to focus it’s best efforts on the financially secure? Why do we consistently go to the nice areas and the ‘nice’ people? Why do we think we’ll change the culture of the nation by only attempting to influence business leaders, politicians and media moguls?

By the way, according to the ever reliable wikipedia, a saveloy is a type of highly seasoned sausage, usually bright red in colour, which is typically available in English fish and chips shops… The word is assumed to originate from the Swiss-French cervelas or servelat, ultimately from the Latin cerebrus; originally a pig brain sausage … Mmm nice.

Abbey Street 1925, the Star Cinema is on the right.

Can’t you people wait? Patience is a virtue you know!  Because of the unprecedented pressure from people clamouring to read the next instalments of ‘My Two Square Miles of London’, I’ve posted both the remaining sections on here. I’ve been really pleased with the fantastic feedback received for the first part. Like a lot of people, I would love to see this book out there in a printed format. In the mean time we’ll have to be content with the virtual version while we put the pressure on to get it published. Happy reading!

My Two Square Miles of London (Part Two, chapters 11-16)

'The Blue' Bermondsey looking toward St James' Road 1931

“My Two Square Miles of London, Reminiscences of a Bermondsey Boy” is a little known gem of a book. It’s never been published, other than as a photocopied document. It’s hardly been read, other than by immediate family and friends. I believe it deserves a wider audience, so with the permission of the author’s family I’ve put it on here.

Bermondsey born filmmaker and playwright, Michael Holland is also planning to use the content of this curious and compelling record of life in Bermondsey at the begining of the 20th Century as the basis of a new documentary film contrasting the old days with the new.

Editor’s Foreword

Percy Bustin’s manuscript of My Two Square Miles of London came to my attention about forty years after he finished writing it in the early 1960s. It immediately captivated me. His homely style and mischievous humour are a reflection of the subject matter of his story and a deep echo of the Bermondsey language he absorbed as he grew up. But more important, here are stories told in detail that I heard repeated by my grandmother, Percy’s sister Florrie Smith and by my mother Doreen Voke. There are artefacts mentioned by him that are still in the family, such as the white leather-bound prize, Cameos of Literature presented to Florrie by Princess Mary. It may be that there are similar repeated tales and family heirlooms existing in other branches of the Bustin family which will now find a context in Percy’s account.

Members of the family who actually remember these Bermondsey streets as they were, and can visualise the family described here, are now very few. So to refresh our memories and for the benefit of the newer generation, I have put this book into a printable form and make it available to anyone.

The script remains almost as Percy wrote it. Some changes of wording for clarity and some historical corrections have been made. The page numbering is new. The pen and ink drawings have been scanned and inserted where they relate to Percy’s text. Discolouration of the original paper can be seen round the edges of the drawings, not all of which it was possible to remove. These drawings present something of a mystery, which someone may like to research. Many of them would seem to be done by Percy himself. However, some are initialled “SS” in the corner. My grandfather was Sidney Smith and he was an accomplished amateur artist. I suspect that Percy persuaded Sidney, his brother-in-law, to do some of these drawings, although I never heard this mentioned.

I hope that this interesting and engaging account of the days of the Bustin family in Bermondsey 100 years ago will keep alive some important aspects of our family story. There are things here that still influence us and make us what we are today.

(Chris Voke, South Norwood, December 2006)

Author’s Preface

To anyone who comes from the great city of London the name Bermondsey will sound familiar. It is that area located on the south bank of the river Thames directly opposite the Tower of London, easily recognised by the huge wharves which line the riverside. It was in Bermondsey in the early years of the 20th century that I, Percy Bustin, one of a family of eleven, spent the first sixteen years of my life.

In those days the people of Bermondsey were typical Cockneys; brash and ribald, yet warm and loveable. They had never known what it was like to live where trees grow and the grass is green. Neither had I until I left there and came to my new and glorious country, Canada. Nevertheless I still have fond memories of my boyhood days in Bermondsey.

In parts the reader may find my story depressing — in others I trust the story of my rather unusual family will, in some measure, compensate for this. (Percy Bustin)

The following is the first of three parts. The others will follow over the next couple of weeks. It would be great to generate some comments on this previously unpublished work.

Click on the image below to see in full screen mode. Then use the button on the toolbar at the top of the screen to enlarge as needed. Click the arrow to turn the page.

My Two Square Miles of London (Part One)