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The Welsh Harp and the Lure of Water

Created on the River Brent with its tributary the Silk Stream to provide water for the Grand Union and Regent C anals , the Brent Reservoir in northwest London is familiarly known as the Welsh Harp, after the nearby Old Welsh Harp coaching inn. For many years, the water was close to and easily accessible from the Edgware Road or the surrounding fields. The reservoir became a popular destination for Londoners, who went to enjoy the many attractions it had to offer. Early pedestrians walked along the main road and visitor numbers increased as bus, tram and train services were all laid on. Their first destination was often the pub at the edge of the reservoir. The heyday of the Old Wesh Harp was in the mid-nineteenth century under the stewardship of enterprising landlord William Perkins Warner. He used both the pub grounds and the waters of the reservoir to stage a huge variety of entertainments. In season, fishing was particularly popular, but bathing, boating and ice skating were all on...
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The Willesden Trunk Murders

  Amazingly, there were two murders where the bodies were hidden in trunks in Willesden. In March 1904 George Crossman left a body in a tin trunk in Kensal Rise. Then in January the following year, Arthur Devereux in a copycat murder tried the same method to dispose of a body in Harlesden.  The George Crossman case In 1904, 30-year old George Crossman was living at No.43 Ladysmith Road, near the corner of Dundonald Road Kensal Rise, paying rent of £3 15 shillings a month. He shared the house with his wife and a young son Bertie. Crossman was well-dressed, handsome with dark piercing eyes, a fashionable drooping moustache and thick black hair. He was seen in the neighbourhood smoking cigars and taking seven-year-old Bertie for walks.  In Christmas 1903, to save money he moved upstairs and sublet the lower part of the house to William Delf, a shirt manufacturer, and his wife. Almost immediately they complained of a terrible smell coming from a tin trunk in a cupboard under ...

Fire Raisers, the Great Insurance Scam

In the late 1920s and early 30s there were a large number of suspicious fires in business premises and claims for insurance. This is the extraordinary story of how one man solved the fraud cases and brought the gang of fire starters to trial. Like all good stories we have a hero William Charles Crocker, and a villain Leopold Harris.    William Charles Crocker     Leopold Harris In April 1926 there was a meeting between Louis Jarvis and Italian-born Camillo ‘Cappa’ Capsoni, who was an agent for Continental Silks. One of his customers, Jarvis who lived in Deerhurst Road off Willesden Lane, told him he had just had a fire at his premises in 14 Margaret Street Marylebone. Cappa who had flat in the same street, said he was very sorry to hear it, but Jarvis did not seem at all put out, and with a broad grin, said he had received £21,500 (today worth about £1.7M) from the insurance claim. Cappa saw that with the right backers he could make money. The following year, he...

Leonard Feather, the famous jazz writer from Willesden

In the 1950s and 60s I read articles by the highly regarded jazz writer, Leonard Feather in Down Beat and Melody Maker. From his detailed knowledge of numerous New York musicians, I always assumed he was American, but in fact he was born in 1914 at No.93 Teignmouth Road, just off Walm Lane in Willesden.    In his autobiography he said his father Nathaniel Feather owned a chain of clothing stores and he was brought up in a strictly conformist upper middle class Jewish family. When he was eleven the family moved to No.18 Bracknell Gardens Hampstead. While business was good, they had servants, and a Daimler car driven by a chauffeur.  Leonard studied classical piano and clarinet from an early age while secretly loving popular music. About the age of fifteen he came across Louis Armstrong’s recording of ‘West End Blues’. He said: ‘I was hooked. Though I was not to realize it for many years, this episode in the listening room of the record shop, not long before I turned fiftee...