Tomorrow - Monday the 19th August will mark the thirty fifth anniversary of a notorious event - one which had severe implications to both British and European Union law, and also had a profound impact on the right to free speech in the pre World Wide Web era. On Saturday the 19th August 1989 representatives from the Dutch PTT and the British DTI travelled out into the international waters of the North Sea (where they had absolutely no legal jurisdiction, as was later proved in court) and boarded the Ross Revenge, home of Radio Caroline, where they smashed the transmitters and damaged the generators and illegally removed all of the studio gear and records from the library. Several of the Dutch PTT officers were armed with revolvers and some uncooperative Caroline crew members were both physically and verbally threatened. Much of this raid was broadcast live on air to most of Europe, before the transmitter was put offline and the valves smashed. I was out in Bexleyheath doing some shopping when this happened, but when I returned to my parents house, my sister played me a cassette recording of the events. Ironically I was already involved with the station at this point, and had been on board the Ross Revenge only two weeks previously. My photos were some of the last taken prior to the raid, and copies were used in evidence in the later court case. Caroline’s shore based management were racing down from North London to get out to the Ross Revenge as quickly as possible – a light aircraft was chartered to fly over the ship, and a speedboat was commandeered to get Peter Moore, the station manager and a couple of engineering staff on site as quickly as possible. Meanwhile I met up with the staff of local land based pirate radio station Radio Lumberjack in the Fox pub in Nuxley Road, Upper Belvedere where we had a council of war. Friend Captain Colin brought along his giant Land Rover V8 station wagon (a vehicle fitted with two RSJ girders on the front in lieu of a conventional bumper bar – Colin believed in crumple zones, just as long as they only involved the other vehicle). We decided we would head into town and try and get onto as many radio stations with the story as we could. Suffice to say that Radio Caroline was back on air in only a few weeks; in fact it should not have come on air when it did. I was one of the team that had arranged for a very large supply run of fuel, drinking water, food, replacement transmitter parts and new records to be sent out to the Ross Revenge from a secret port in Kent (the Gravesend Canal basin) on a ship called the M.V Galexy (not a typo) – a former Tyne ferry boat that was featured in the classic Michael Caine crime thriller “Get Carter”. We were ready to go for a very quiet and stealthy “fishing” trip when Caroline came back on air, and the authorities were alerted that the station was not dead after all. Caroline management got into a furious row over the correct policy and course of action and the supply run had to be delayed, though it eventually went ahead. Some months later with the ship, transmitters and studios patched up, I chucked in my day job and went to work for Radio Caroline. All a very long time ago now. Caroline may no longer be broadcasting from the North Sea, but they are still a very important presence online and on 648 Khz Medium Wave – you can read more about the station and also listen to their programmes by clicking here. The British Department of Trade and Industry had chartered a former Trinity House pilot boat, the M.V Landward. Some weeks after it was involved in the raid, we got word that it was moored in Gillingham Marina. A sympathiser had been speaking to the owner, who was smugly boasting of how much money the British government had paid him to take officials out to the Ross Revenge at its mooring fifteen miles off the North Foreland. A small team of Caroline shore staff paid the Landward a visit late one night after everyone had gone home. There had been some debate about whether we should pour a couple of bags of Lime into the bilges; this would quickly eat through the wooden hull and sink the ship. We decided that as Caroline preached a philosophy of peace and non - violence, known as Loving Awareness that this would be inappropriate. Instead when the owner came back on board the Landward the next day, he found a Radio Caroline car sticker neatly stuck on the wheelhouse window on the inside, with no sign of the door lock being forced, and no signs of any damage. We later found out that he had been incredibly rattled by this - as it sent the message "we know who you are, and what you did, and we are watching you". He was looking over his shoulder for months afterwards! He never discovered how we did it, which to be honest was a bit of a Happy Shopper "Mission: Impossible" project. Our informer was the owner of the yard, who was a big Caroline fan; the owner of the Landward left the keys to the ship in the yard office when he went home - we just borrowed them, opened the wheelhouse door, put up the sticker and locked the door back up. Simple but very effective.
There was a very colourful and larger than life character who lived in Erith during Victorian times; his name was Robert Austin, but he was more popularly known as "Robert the Devil" - he was an exhibitionist and showman, and I understand he had a strong man act that sometimes toured around North Kent and beyond. He had a couple of party tricks. He often drank in the pubs on Erith riverfront, and was notorious for betting other drinkers a pint of ale if he could swim across the River Thames from Erith to Coldharbour Point in Havering, Essex and back - which he invariably did. As I have previously written, the currents and undertow in and around Anchor Bay make this one of the most lethal stretches of the Thames for swimmers, and why most people who enter the river end up getting fished out by the Police or RNLI as corpses. It would appear that Robert Austin was a very strong and confident swimmer who could repeatedly challenge this. On top of swimming the river, Austin would permit a man to break a granite kerb stone over his chest with a sledge hammer - for the price of a gallon of beer! He was for a time the master of the Thames Sailing Barge "Chance". The subject of the mural on the side of The White Hart African restaurant (see the photo above – click on it for a larger view). He died on the 4th November 1944, and is buried in the Churchyard of St. John's Church, West Street. His short obituary does not mention his nickname, but does tell of him being a strong swimmer. I suspect that he timed his Thames swimming challenges with slack tide, as I don't believe even an Olympic standard swimmer could manage the very strong currents and undertow when the river was in full tidal flow. What is also interesting is that his nickname was not by any means original. The first known use of the name “Robert the Devil” goes back a very long way in history indeed. The name actually originates in a thirteenth century French novel called “Robert le Diable”, a tale of supernatural birth and spiritual redemption. The tale of a boy born to a childless noble couple only after the mother has secretly called on Satan to help her conceive. The behaviour of the boy, and then of the strong, powerfully built young man skilled at arms that he becomes, is so destructive and brutal that one day, loathing himself, he prevails on his mother to reveal the secret of his birth and thus the source of his wickedness. He leaves his home in Normandy, as well as his privileged position as the only child of the Duke, to seek salvation in Rome. The Pope and then a pious hermit set him on the way to remission of his sins through a lengthy, arduous penance, whose most striking requirement is that he never speak. Living dumbly at the Roman court as the Emperor’s pet fool, Robert becomes aware of a Turkish threat of invasion. He prays to God to allow him to use his ever-extraordinary strength and fighting ability to help the Romans, though without revealing his identity. Thanks to an angelic emissary of the Lord, Robert is able to accomplish his desired mission. The Saracens are persistent enemies, however, and it is only after three successive military campaigns that they are finally defeated, the Romans all the while wondering who their elusive champion might be. Robert’s identity has been known all along to the Emperor’s daughter but has remained a secret, because she, like Robert, is mute (but for non penitential reasons). Dramatic events, involving a villainous steward, rejected as a suitor to the Princess, ultimately restore the power of speech to both Robert and the Emperor’s daughter. The Emperor, grateful for Robert’s decisive help against the Turks, wishes to grant him his very willing daughter in marriage. Robert declines, however, and returns to the hermit’s abode, where his path to salvation began. When Robert dies, he is venerated as a saint. Basically a medieval superhero type of story. Not especially relevant to the historic Erith resident, but interesting nevertheless.
Following the closure of the Brewer's Fayre outlet in Albion Road Bexleyheath in July, owners Whitbread have announced the closure or conversion of further branches, which has sparked concern by regulars. One of the vocal critics of the plans is The Campaign for Real Ale (Camra)'s leader Tom Stainer, who wrote a stinging letter to the company asking them to reconsider their decision. In the open letter, he wrote: "I would ask that you carefully reflect on whether the actions that you have put in train align with your previous commitments and your outlined values. I would argue that they do not. Closing a pub which is a community amenity facility and gathering space to the local community that it serves is not only contrary to the aims of your environmental, social and governance strategy, it will also impact upon your ability to maintain that you are a 'trusted brand'." Whitbread is planning a massive revamp and says over the next 24 months, and is set to transform approximately 112 of its branded restaurants into new hotel rooms due to strong demand. This will see customers barred from 115 sites that neighbour Premier Inn locations, including big names like Beefeater and Brewers Fayre establishments.
The end video this week features just over a minute of silent colour film of the Woolwich Ferry and the ferry approach from back in 1963; it is a valuable piece of local history. Comments and suggestions to me at the usual address - hugh.neal@gmail.com.
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