London Fogs
James Sanderson
The Fog of December 1952. In 1952 I was 6 years old and did I remember that fog or was it just the newsreels that followed that I remember?
I can recall walking along Laycock Street to school with my pals from the buildings, all of us wearing hankies over our mouths like the baddies in pictures, and then laughing at the yellow-black crud that coated the part where we had breathed.
So do any of our members have memories of those events?
Roger Bartlett
I was 8 in 1952, the year the King died. As a youngster I had suffered from primary TB and had had breathing problems throughout my primary school days.
The doctors, made aware my grandparents lived in Penmaenmawr, N. Wales, strongly suggested either the family relocate or at the very least I did. As a family a move was an impossibility; no suitable job opportunities for Dad. However, the local GP suggested relocation for me was serious. The minor fogs throughout the late forties early fifties were manageable, but the real pea supers kept me indoors.
Starting aged six, approaching seven, I was handed over to my grandfather at Euston Station on the first Saturday of the school holidays. He was a Main Line Passenger Rail Guard. Supervised by him or, in subsequent trips, sometimes his pals, I was shipped to Wales for the holidays. It was like being at boarding school. This continued throughout my school life even into the lower six at Barnsbury.
Off to Wales for the Summer and many Easters to take advantage of the sea and mountain air and recharge and clear my lungs of London crud. It worked. I managed a successful sports involvement throughout my school years, from Swimming, Athletics, Basketball, Rugby, mainly short explosive involvement. Cross Country running was a no no, but I hated it and made sure I never finished in the top positions from which teams were selected.
The fogs, a health issue for many of our youth, opened many doors for me. Two homes, two sets of mates, and grass that didn’t only grow between paving slabs, and sand on a two mile beach.
Martin "Bertie" Worster
I was 6 at the time and Winston Churchill was prime minister. I recall the expression, “You couldn’t see your hand in front of you.“
I stood on my doorstep in New North Road and watched large vehicles, including the 611 trolleybus, travelling at 5 MPH with a man in front leading and carrying a large torch which wasn’t of enormous help.
I recall all the coughing and spluttering around me. Few people went out with woollen scarves wrapped around their mouths. No issuing of face masks by the government in those days. It was a policy of every one for themselves. Sadly lots of people died.
Not so happy days.
Robert Drew
I remember going from our house in All Saints Street to my Nan's house in Peerless street as I went to Junior School at Moorfields in Bath Street. I remember getting trolleybus from Kings Cross. I had a makeshift mask. When I got to my Nan's the school was closed. The mask was mucky from the smog. I guess I was about 5 years old.
Barry Page
I suspect we all have memories of this event. Even though London fogs were commonplace, the 1952 London smog was different. Visibility was heavily restricted even in familiar places and, despite holding a hankie to one's nose and mouth, the smell and toxic fumes still penetrated the cloth, leaving a yellowish residue.
Transportation was severely impacted. The North London Railway that my block of flats overlooked, however, still ran a schedule. One new aspect was the laying of detonators on the line just before the Highbury Station platforms. When the trains approached the station, they ran over the detonators and the report alerted the driver to slow down. You can imagine over five days the number of detonations was considerable. Buses were guided by uniformed personnel with flares, and at some busy road intersections, police on point duty also had a similar torch device, or there were acetylene flares places in the middle of the junction.
At seven years old, it was something of an adventure, and the health related effects weren't fully understood. Afterwards, the death toll was publicised, and that shocked the government into action – even though is was another four years before the Clean Air Act came into effect.
I think my family was a little guilty when it came to adding to the overall air pollution. About that time the tram tracks were being removed from Highbury Corner, and the discarded wooden blocks used as ballast around the tracks made ideal fuel for the open hearths at home. As we were living in straitened circumstances there was little money for coal, so this substitute was welcome. Unfortunately, the 'tarry' blocks were impregnated with creosote and emitted dense smoke when burned, thus adding to the fumes that contributed to the smog.
Happy Days??
Mickey Isaacs
The extra 40-50ft of elevation of Finsbury Park where I lived must have made all the difference, as I remember the fog, but visibility was a about 10 feet. Nothing like as bad as Angel or City Road way. What I do remember was my father fashioning very tight fitting masks from white handkerchiefs. I believe in the army he had been on a course on making improvised gas masks, and all those years later put his training to good use. When I took mine off there were two big round black marks where my nostrils had breathed in the muck.
Another memory is going down the Tube at Finsbury Park. This is not a deep station so there were only stairs down to the platform, and I remember looking back to see the fog rolling down the stairs as if it was after us. As mentioned in the programme, as usual the government did its best to cover up and minimise the incident (nothing ever changes in the UK.) By their figures the death toll was in the 4 thousands, conveniently counting only those who perished that week and the week after. The true figures were closer to 12,000 if you included January and the beginning of February. As those of us that have suffered will know lung problems can be long term. The government blamed the high January figures on an Influenza outbreak which was non existent. Ah well; T'was ever thus.
John (Cardoza) Prysky
I was ten in 1952 and remember the big fog well.
I was at Primary School in Dalston near London Fields before I moved to Islington, and remember walking to school, which was about a quarter mile from where I lived, holding hands with other kids so we didn’t get lost in the fog. In those days you went to school on your own, not with your parents who were probably working, and we all thought it was great, jumping out and trying to frighten each other. It was the year before I went to Barnsbury Central school in Eden Grove.
I also remember seeing a man walking in front of the buses in Graham Road, Dalston, with a flame lighted torch guiding them along the road towards Dalston Junction. The fog was so thick you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. We kids thought it was hilarious at the time, but in hindsight who knows how many it killed and how many we’re suffering for the rest of there lives with bad chests etc. It was after this when the Clean Air Act came in and London became a smokeless zone. Well it never affected me and I am still here at nearly 81 years of age.
Tony Lawrence
I recall fogs and smogs right up to the early 60s but the ’52 was very bad.
Particular recollection was one foggy night in about 1955, [I was about 15] I recall going to get the bus from Newington Green to the Angel prior to going to the youth club that Mr. Bean used to run in Compton Street, off Goswell Road. Anyone recall that place???
I got on the bus, paid my fare and we drove about 100 yards when the bus came to a halt and the driver got out of his cab and
had a word with the clippie. Apparently he was not going to go much further because he could not see due to the thick fog. The clippie got back on the bus, explained the situation to us passengers and asked for a volunteer to walk in front of the bus with a flare until the driver deemed it safe to proceed unaided.
No one particularly wanted to do such a hazardous action, so nobody volunteered. This prompted the clippie to point to me and say ”You’re a young lad, so come on!” More an order than a request. So there I was, walking a few feet, and I mean a few feet, in front of the bus with this somewhat dangerous spitting flame lighted torch. Basically I could not really see much properly so it was a bit of the ‘blind leading the blind’ so to speak. I could hear other traffic and once nearly collided with a cyclist who was on the wrong side of the road.
We stopped a few times to pick up passengers and I was still guiding the bus down Newington Green Road, crossing the traffic lights where it joined Essex Road, hoping that other road users were being careful. All the bloody way up Essex Road to Upper Street high pavement, where I told the clippie that I could proceed no further as I was going a different way. Not a word of thanks or a refund of my fare, just snatched the torch out of my hand and disappeared into the gloom!!!
What used to intrigue me was how quiet everything was when we had fogs…. Really quite eerie.
Thank goodness the smoke control eventually came into force but it was many years before the fogs eventually became a thing of the past.
Barry Page
Tony mentions: "What used to intrigue me was how quiet everything was when we had fogs…. Really quite eerie."
A recollection from my online memoirs: "On a typical foggy night, the gas lights and damp pavements created a mysteriously haunting environment; made even moreso by the occasional melancholic hooting of tugs on the river. The muffled traffic noise and periodic passing of trains added to the surrealism of the scene, amplified by the omnipresent smell of the swirling fog."
Barry
The Fog of December 1952. In 1952 I was 6 years old and did I remember that fog or was it just the newsreels that followed that I remember?
I can recall walking along Laycock Street to school with my pals from the buildings, all of us wearing hankies over our mouths like the baddies in pictures, and then laughing at the yellow-black crud that coated the part where we had breathed.
So do any of our members have memories of those events?
Roger Bartlett
I was 8 in 1952, the year the King died. As a youngster I had suffered from primary TB and had had breathing problems throughout my primary school days.
The doctors, made aware my grandparents lived in Penmaenmawr, N. Wales, strongly suggested either the family relocate or at the very least I did. As a family a move was an impossibility; no suitable job opportunities for Dad. However, the local GP suggested relocation for me was serious. The minor fogs throughout the late forties early fifties were manageable, but the real pea supers kept me indoors.
Starting aged six, approaching seven, I was handed over to my grandfather at Euston Station on the first Saturday of the school holidays. He was a Main Line Passenger Rail Guard. Supervised by him or, in subsequent trips, sometimes his pals, I was shipped to Wales for the holidays. It was like being at boarding school. This continued throughout my school life even into the lower six at Barnsbury.
Off to Wales for the Summer and many Easters to take advantage of the sea and mountain air and recharge and clear my lungs of London crud. It worked. I managed a successful sports involvement throughout my school years, from Swimming, Athletics, Basketball, Rugby, mainly short explosive involvement. Cross Country running was a no no, but I hated it and made sure I never finished in the top positions from which teams were selected.
The fogs, a health issue for many of our youth, opened many doors for me. Two homes, two sets of mates, and grass that didn’t only grow between paving slabs, and sand on a two mile beach.
Martin "Bertie" Worster
I was 6 at the time and Winston Churchill was prime minister. I recall the expression, “You couldn’t see your hand in front of you.“
I stood on my doorstep in New North Road and watched large vehicles, including the 611 trolleybus, travelling at 5 MPH with a man in front leading and carrying a large torch which wasn’t of enormous help.
I recall all the coughing and spluttering around me. Few people went out with woollen scarves wrapped around their mouths. No issuing of face masks by the government in those days. It was a policy of every one for themselves. Sadly lots of people died.
Not so happy days.
Robert Drew
I remember going from our house in All Saints Street to my Nan's house in Peerless street as I went to Junior School at Moorfields in Bath Street. I remember getting trolleybus from Kings Cross. I had a makeshift mask. When I got to my Nan's the school was closed. The mask was mucky from the smog. I guess I was about 5 years old.
Barry Page
I suspect we all have memories of this event. Even though London fogs were commonplace, the 1952 London smog was different. Visibility was heavily restricted even in familiar places and, despite holding a hankie to one's nose and mouth, the smell and toxic fumes still penetrated the cloth, leaving a yellowish residue.
Transportation was severely impacted. The North London Railway that my block of flats overlooked, however, still ran a schedule. One new aspect was the laying of detonators on the line just before the Highbury Station platforms. When the trains approached the station, they ran over the detonators and the report alerted the driver to slow down. You can imagine over five days the number of detonations was considerable. Buses were guided by uniformed personnel with flares, and at some busy road intersections, police on point duty also had a similar torch device, or there were acetylene flares places in the middle of the junction.
At seven years old, it was something of an adventure, and the health related effects weren't fully understood. Afterwards, the death toll was publicised, and that shocked the government into action – even though is was another four years before the Clean Air Act came into effect.
I think my family was a little guilty when it came to adding to the overall air pollution. About that time the tram tracks were being removed from Highbury Corner, and the discarded wooden blocks used as ballast around the tracks made ideal fuel for the open hearths at home. As we were living in straitened circumstances there was little money for coal, so this substitute was welcome. Unfortunately, the 'tarry' blocks were impregnated with creosote and emitted dense smoke when burned, thus adding to the fumes that contributed to the smog.
Happy Days??
Mickey Isaacs
The extra 40-50ft of elevation of Finsbury Park where I lived must have made all the difference, as I remember the fog, but visibility was a about 10 feet. Nothing like as bad as Angel or City Road way. What I do remember was my father fashioning very tight fitting masks from white handkerchiefs. I believe in the army he had been on a course on making improvised gas masks, and all those years later put his training to good use. When I took mine off there were two big round black marks where my nostrils had breathed in the muck.
Another memory is going down the Tube at Finsbury Park. This is not a deep station so there were only stairs down to the platform, and I remember looking back to see the fog rolling down the stairs as if it was after us. As mentioned in the programme, as usual the government did its best to cover up and minimise the incident (nothing ever changes in the UK.) By their figures the death toll was in the 4 thousands, conveniently counting only those who perished that week and the week after. The true figures were closer to 12,000 if you included January and the beginning of February. As those of us that have suffered will know lung problems can be long term. The government blamed the high January figures on an Influenza outbreak which was non existent. Ah well; T'was ever thus.
John (Cardoza) Prysky
I was ten in 1952 and remember the big fog well.
I was at Primary School in Dalston near London Fields before I moved to Islington, and remember walking to school, which was about a quarter mile from where I lived, holding hands with other kids so we didn’t get lost in the fog. In those days you went to school on your own, not with your parents who were probably working, and we all thought it was great, jumping out and trying to frighten each other. It was the year before I went to Barnsbury Central school in Eden Grove.
I also remember seeing a man walking in front of the buses in Graham Road, Dalston, with a flame lighted torch guiding them along the road towards Dalston Junction. The fog was so thick you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. We kids thought it was hilarious at the time, but in hindsight who knows how many it killed and how many we’re suffering for the rest of there lives with bad chests etc. It was after this when the Clean Air Act came in and London became a smokeless zone. Well it never affected me and I am still here at nearly 81 years of age.
Tony Lawrence
I recall fogs and smogs right up to the early 60s but the ’52 was very bad.
Particular recollection was one foggy night in about 1955, [I was about 15] I recall going to get the bus from Newington Green to the Angel prior to going to the youth club that Mr. Bean used to run in Compton Street, off Goswell Road. Anyone recall that place???
I got on the bus, paid my fare and we drove about 100 yards when the bus came to a halt and the driver got out of his cab and
had a word with the clippie. Apparently he was not going to go much further because he could not see due to the thick fog. The clippie got back on the bus, explained the situation to us passengers and asked for a volunteer to walk in front of the bus with a flare until the driver deemed it safe to proceed unaided.
No one particularly wanted to do such a hazardous action, so nobody volunteered. This prompted the clippie to point to me and say ”You’re a young lad, so come on!” More an order than a request. So there I was, walking a few feet, and I mean a few feet, in front of the bus with this somewhat dangerous spitting flame lighted torch. Basically I could not really see much properly so it was a bit of the ‘blind leading the blind’ so to speak. I could hear other traffic and once nearly collided with a cyclist who was on the wrong side of the road.
We stopped a few times to pick up passengers and I was still guiding the bus down Newington Green Road, crossing the traffic lights where it joined Essex Road, hoping that other road users were being careful. All the bloody way up Essex Road to Upper Street high pavement, where I told the clippie that I could proceed no further as I was going a different way. Not a word of thanks or a refund of my fare, just snatched the torch out of my hand and disappeared into the gloom!!!
What used to intrigue me was how quiet everything was when we had fogs…. Really quite eerie.
Thank goodness the smoke control eventually came into force but it was many years before the fogs eventually became a thing of the past.
Barry Page
Tony mentions: "What used to intrigue me was how quiet everything was when we had fogs…. Really quite eerie."
A recollection from my online memoirs: "On a typical foggy night, the gas lights and damp pavements created a mysteriously haunting environment; made even moreso by the occasional melancholic hooting of tugs on the river. The muffled traffic noise and periodic passing of trains added to the surrealism of the scene, amplified by the omnipresent smell of the swirling fog."
Barry