Arrivals and Departures

A trio of evocative photos from the 1950s for those with long memories of British train stations. Commissioned as archive photographs by British Railways, they record information systems that have long since vanished from platforms and concourses. The first photo (dated July 31, 1957) was taken at Portsmouth and Southsea station. Most of the services in the right hand columns appear to have been suspended or withdrawn. As well as District Line trains, Richmond station (photo dated April 4, 1957) was the terminus for a service to the long defunct Broad Street station in the City that traveled along the North London Line. The third photo (dated June 23, 1959) is from Sheerness-on-Sea on the Isle of Sheppey. A caption on the reverse identifies it as a Benn and Cronin Indicator. This station (and Richmond) feature posters advertising day and evening excursions at bargain prices, a tradition that seemed to die out in the early 1980s. An unwelcome feature, often found in terminal stations is the recent practice of restricting access to trains until less than 5 minutes before departure time. Especially common in London - if it was devised to promote onboard chaos as hyper-stressed passengers jostle for space, it’s been a triumph. Finally we have a few more contemporary examples photographed at London King’s Cross, Ogilvie Transportation Centre Chicago, Hamburg Hbf, Lubeck and Paris, Gare d’Austerlitz. 

 

Postcard of the Day No. 115, Saintes, Passarelle du Passage à Niveau

Saintes is a small town in Charente-Maritime on the railway linking La Rochelle with Bordeaux. A local postcard photographer has succumbed to the charms of robust displays of structural steel near the town station and, on a gloomy winter day, aimed a camera at the footbridge and level crossing that both join and separate the two halves of the town. For some this would have been seen as a modern intrusion into a traditional townscape, for others it was a minor wonder of the age. A trio of curious youngsters, with wheelbarrow and a passing facteur, with bicycle, have paused to witness what happens. In a drowsy town, any break with routine is welcomed. Especially if there's a chance of seeing their likenesses in print. The original photographic plate would have recorded much more detailed visual information than the limitations of the printed card would permit, but the enlarged details with all their imperfections have a charm of their own.

 

Postcard of the Day No. 113, Sutton Bridge

It seems the arrival of the camera was anticipated since the signalman has brought his daughters along to be part of the photograph. Father is stood behind them as they pose on the balcony.  Another railway employee stands in the doorway to the signal box, sporting a watch and chain.  In the distance the operator of the swing bridge has stepped out of the control cabin to be included in the picture.  All is unusually pristine and crisp - from the timber fencing to the signal gantries via the rivets on the bridge. The track work and the signal cabling is in immaculate condition.

This is the Cross Keys Swing Bridge, an east-west crossing of the River Nene at the Lincolnshire town of Sutton Bridge as photographed from the station. When it opened in 1897, one span served as a roadway while the other was used for railway traffic by the Midland and Great Northern Railway connecting East Anglia with the Midlands and Northern England, mainly for the transport of coal and it remained that way until the railway closed in 1965. The spans are only wide enough for one-way operation and two signal boxes were required to safely filter the rail traffic into a single track. Power supply for moving the bridge was initially provided by two adapted locomotive boilers installed by Armstrong, Whitworth. In latter years electric motors did the job. Commercial shipping bound for Wisbech and leisure craft still pass and the bridge remains in occasional use. Both the bridge and the Engine House (not visible in the postcard) are Grade II* listed by Historic England. 

Heywood Sumner

 

Great Railway Stations No. 21, Penzance

The westward rails run out at Penzance, there’s nowhere else to go except back.  After 326 miles from Paddington it’s the end of the line. A first station opened in 1852 and in 1859 it was connected to London with the opening of the Royal Albert Bridge across the River Tamar. In 1876 a new and larger station was built and for a century or so, the Cornish Main Line was the first choice of travellers and holiday makers heading for the resorts of the far South West. When traffic declined sharply as passengers piled into family cars for the journey west, rail managers responded by cutting services and track work to balance the books.  Today’s station is substantially the layout built by the GWR in 1937 but despite all the rebuilds and extensions nobody ever thought it worth providing the sort of grand entrance its importance might have merited.  The single modest entrance to the cramped concourse is via the side of the building.  Only the overall roof offers any sense of occasion.  If the Thatcher government had implemented the recommendations of the Serpell Report in 1983 there would now be no railway lines in Cornwall (or Devon and Somerset for that matter).

The overview below of Penzance Station approximates the vantage point of Stanhope Forbes when he painted "A Terminus in the West" in 1925 when it was a 2 platform station. The GWR commissioned Forbes to make paintings of Cornish subjects for publicity purposes and the Penzance station painting is now in the collection of the National Railway Museum. Forbes was born in Dublin where his father was manager of the Midland Great Western Railway of Ireland suggesting an affinity with railway subjects. He also produced poster designs for the LMS in his characteristically robust realism style, all of which brought some relief from the pilchards and fisherfolk.  Penzance is a station to be valued for its remoteness, its individuality - the only overnight sleeper train to run in England terminates here - and the blunt fact that there’s no further to go.