For more London history, take a look at our weekly newsletter Londonist: Time Machine.
Few other roads have so much history packed into their length — nor so much colour.
In 10 dead-straight miles, the Edgware Road spans British history from the Romans' establishment of Londinium (when it could all have fitted into Hyde Park, had Hyde Park existed back then) to 20th century Romanians' establishment of Burnt Oak as a home from home.
William Fitz Osbert — "the advocate of the poor" — was one of the earliest folk to make history on this road, although not for an enviable reason. In 1196 he became the first to be executed on the notorious Tyburn Tree, where the Edgware Road starts (it was never a tree, by the way, but a wooden scaffold).
Getting yourself strung up at Tyburn wasn't difficult. Hanging offences over the years included cutting down a tree, stealing rabbits and going out at night with a blackened face. While Osbert was the Tyburn's first victim, the last was John Austin, in 1783. Austin had murdered a Kent labourer called John Spicer, "cutting and wounding him... in a cruel manner." Look down and you'll find a plaque, set into the road where the gallows once stood.
A more celebratory 'first' is that of London's inaugural curry restaurant. This opened just off the Edgware Road, in George Street, in 1810. Curry had been on London menus before then, but it wasn't until a retired Indian soldier named Dean Mahomed came along, that the city got a bricks and mortar restaurant serving nothing else. Mahomed judged there'd be enough old India hands craving a flavour of the east. Sadly, he judged wrongly; those old soldiers had cooks of their own and preferred to eat at home. Instead, Mahomed moved to Brighton and opened a steam bath — but still died a poor man.
Edgware Road is traffic-choked today — a mixture of petrol, diesel and electric vehicles, plus an army of fast food delivery bikers. In July 1829, non-horse drawn vehicles were still in their infancy, and Sir Goldsworthy Gurney set off up the Edgware Road in a steam-driven contraption before turning off towards Bath — demonstrating what the horseless roads of the future might look like. He averaged 14mph, including stopping to refill the boiler and take on more coal. Gurney was quite the brain, also installing lime lighting in the Houses of Parliament, giving us the term 'in the limelight'. The invention quickly spread to theatres. Alas, not everyone was keen on Gurney's new mode of transport: the carriage trade, the keepers of horses — even the gentry — turned against Gurney. He died bankrupt, owing £232,000.
The poor have long been blamed for being poor. In Victorian times, the law insisted that parishes care for their less fortunate. Parishes made their workhouses so unpleasant that 'loafers', 'scallywags' and the like would do all they could to avoid them. Hendon workhouse was one of the worst. It separated husband and wives, and children from their parents. All were forced to work and live in appalling conditions. The first guardian was a clergyman, Theodore Williams. He gave his workhouse a reputation for cruelty from which it never recovered. Breaking even the most minor rule brought a diet of bread and water, solitary confinement and perhaps a strait-jacket.
Burnt Oak is the penultimate station on the Northern line's Edgware branch, though it opened after Edgware station itself (and to begin with, only at weekends). Today the area is perhaps best known for its Romanian community, but it was also the birthplace of one of the country's best known brands. The halal food shop that stands at 54 Watling Avenue is on the site of the inaugural branch of Tesco, which opened in September 1929. The founder, Jack Cohen, is buried in Willesden Jewish Cemetery. Some say his tomb is till-shaped.
In June 1930, there was a scandalous episode, when a man returning from church with his wife came across naked and scantily-dressed sunbathers at the Welsh Harp reservoir. He ranted to the local paper: "Why is naked sun bathing permitted in the Welsh Harp Reservoir without some enclosure, where sexual maniacs can perform out of view of the more respectable members of the community?... Hardly a pleasant sight for a man to have to pass with his wife."
The next day, a crowd of people determined to be shocked turned up to shout abuse at the sunbathers. The following day, the police turned up — not to prosecute but to protect the nudists. After all, they were on private land. They were not visible from the path. They had even put up warnings. Funny how some people (literally) go out of their way to be upset. But the pervy prudes had their way. The naturists never returned in numbers.
Edgware Road: From Romans to Romanians and Everyone In Between by Léo Woodland, published by The History Press
