W003 → The Lost Gardens of Covent Garden: An Experiment in Collective Walking
The Lost Gardens of Covent Garden
An Experiment in Collective Walking
(For a walk
with twelve; can be adapted for fewer or more participants)
DESMOND
PLUMMER, Conservative
leader of the GLC from 1967-73
HARRY GOODEY, Covent Garden Market stallkeeper
JIM MONAHAN,young architect and
campaigner for the CGCA
LYN BAKER, secretary and local campaigner for the
CGCA
AUSTEN
WILLIAMS, reverend in
Covent Garden and a key figure in the CGCA; chaired the Covent Garden Forum
BRIAN ANSON,urban planner for the
GLC that joined the CGCA’s campaign
GEOFFREY
RIPPON, Secretary of
State for the Environment who ruled at the CGCA’s hearing
DAVID BIEDA, youth worker with Street Aid and
prominent campaigner for the CGCA
FIONA WHITE,local child
ROBERT
PIMLOTT, community gardener and CGCA campaigner
KATHY
PIMLOTT, co-ordinator
with the CGCA
Stop 1:
Covent Garden Market (east side)
Begin the
walk facing east with your back to the former market, looking toward the Royal
Opera House.
Imagine this:
straight ahead of you towers a monumental mixed-use development. You don’t see
any cars, but you can hear the faint thrum of engines emanating from a
subterranean roadway beneath your feet. London’s first international conference
centre dominates the skyline, while a hotel rises beside it. Offices, flats,
and entertainment spaces make up the rest of the brutalist complex.
Welcome to the
Covent Garden that could have been. If the Greater London Council, or GLC, had
had their way in the 1960s and ‘70s, a Barbicanised landscape would have
consumed much of this historic district in the name of modernisation and
profit.
What prevented
this from happening?
This is a story
of when a neighbourhood fought against gentrification, demolition, and
displacement—and won. The Covent Garden Community Association, or CGCA, spent
over a decade campaigning against the GLC’s plans. On our walk, we’ll delve
into some of these stories, with you, the walkers, taking on roles of various
stakeholders involved. Your character card gives you an idea of the role you’ll
take on, but I encourage you to be imaginative.
Our walk visits
some of the lost gardens of Covent Garden. These gardens were integral to the
CGCA’s campaign, acting as both spaces to bring the community together and
sites of resistance through occupation. Of the seven community gardens built in
the ‘70s and ‘80s, only one remains. We’ll visit this garden at the end of our
walk. The rest are now built over, obscured by concrete foundations. Many of
the gardens blossomed into the same social housing projects the neighbourhood
campaigned for. But before we move on, let’s walk across the market.
Stop 2:
Covent Garden Market (west side)
November 11th,
1974. Look around you: the streets are empty. It’s morning, but the bustle that
was here only yesterday—the passing of trucks, the constant unloading and
re-loading, people rushing through the streets—has vanished. The market hall,
last week piled high with boxes and filled with a chorus of voices, is
hauntingly void of life.
Today, after
300 years of use, the market has moved across the river to Nine Elms. Only the
shell of the now obsolete market building remains. What will become of this
space? And what of the locals who worked there?
Over the hundreds of years of its existence, Covent Garden has seen
many changes. Even so, the area has always been tied to food systems, from
production and distribution to consumption. The “garden” in Covent Garden isn’t a misnomer: the market,
where we now stand, was once Westminster Abbey’s vegetable garden. From as
early as 1200, a marketplace was established, operating as the city’s hub for
produce, meats, and flowers.
After the fire
of 1666 burned down many other markets in the city, trade became concentrated
in Covent Garden. It continued to be an extensive wholesale market through the
20th century, and a major employer for those living locally.
By the 1970s,
congestion around the market was intolerable, and the market had outgrown its
facilities. The GLC decided it had to move to a less central location.
An empty square
in the middle of London was a valuable property, and the GLC had ambitious
plans in the works. Described by Tory MP Gordon Gardiner as “the most exciting
comprehensive development scheme since the Great Fire of 1666,” Covent Garden
was to be redeveloped into a futuristic modern quarter of the city, a glimpse
of the London to come. Though visionary, the development demanded the
demolition of nearly two thirds of the existing historic buildings, uprooting
the working-class locals to welcome residents and visitors more profitable to
the area. Over 80% of existing housing would be replaced by pricier flats.
Now, I’m going
to ask you to look at your character cards. Let’s go around and briefly
introduce the roles we’ll be playing on the walk.
[Allow time
to do so]
Throughout the
tour, you’ll be given opportunities to respond to prompts, but feel free to
interject or improvise any time. Don’t be afraid of being historically
inaccurate—have fun with it!
Let’s begin
with Desmond Plummer, who led the GLC until 1973. How would you describe your
intentions for this masterplan?
[Desmond
responds]
Initially
proposed in 1968, the GLC’s plans faced immediate pushback. Harry Goodey, you
kept a stall in the market and live locally. Do you have any words for Plummer?
[Harry
responds]
Let’s go back
to April 1st, 1971. 500 protesters gather in the Piazza to protest
the GLC’s plans. A sign reads “London needs another office block like it needs
another plague.” All kinds of people show up to voice their opposition,
including some curious young architects. One of them, Jim Monahan, has been
inspired to begin organising with his team at the Architectural Association. He
becomes an active member of the fight for Covent Garden.
Jim, how do you
feel about the GLC’s proposals?
[Jim
responds]
Monahan wasn’t
alone in his outrage. Let’s walk to our first lost garden, where we’ll discover
how the community began to mobilise.
Stop 3:
Odhams Walk
Does this
social housing block remind you of anything?
[Give a
moment for responses.]
It’s not your
typical modernist block, is it? Built in 1979 by the GLC, the project
represents the CGCA’s successful campaign to increase affordable housing in the
neighbourhood. The architect, Donald Ball, was inspired by Mediterranean
vernacular architecture when designing this collection of stacked brick
modules. With tiered terraces and shared courtyards, it was an attempt at a
more social and collective form of apartment living, not dissimilar to Mosche
Safdie’s Habitat 67.
This was
originally the site of Odhams Print Works, one of the GLC’s key redevelopment
projects. After its demolition in 1970, the CGCA occupied the building site,
transforming it into a community garden. The garden of resistance held
festivals, celebrations, lunch breaks, and a place for peaceful contemplation.
A Japanese Garden with a pond and bridge sat squarely in the centre, edged by
foundation walls. Of course, the choice to build a Japanese Garden is open to
critique, as it was likely designed with orientalist tropes popular at the
time.
A handful of
old photos gives us a glimpse into the life of the garden. It’s a festival day:
a patchwork of handmade punnet flags zigzag over the sunken garden, creating a
colourful roof. People mill about, laughing, gossiping, making plans. Some
picnickers have spread a blanket on the grass, while children dance on the steppingstones
rimming the pond, clambering toward a yellow metal play structure. Ducks swim
in the water. A band performs, triumphant brass mixing with the clamour of
voices. There is a sense of togetherness brought about by this unexpected
garden. Its temporariness is exhilarating, widening the horizon of possibility.
Covent Garden’s
lost gardens aren’t well documented. Some of the sites we’ll visit on our walk,
such as this one, were recorded as gardens before their development. Others are
less easy to trace. So, as we walk to our next stop, let’s speculate: where
might the other gardens have been? Along this street, try to identify a
building dating from the 1980s onward that might have once been a garden site.
What do you see?
[Stop when
someone points out a building]
Stop 4: Lost
Garden No. 1
Let’s imagine
away this building. Disappear it in your mind until you see an opening the size
of its foundations. Maybe there’s some fencing at its perimeter, or remains of
the demolished buildings’ foundation walls. It’s a grey afternoon and slightly drizzly,
but a few people are milling about the garden, tools in hand. Someone is sowing
tomato seeds, carefully enclosing them in earth. A young person has just
screen-printed a poster advertising a meeting at the CCGA’s headquarters. She’s
helped by an artist whose studio is in the nearby banana warehouse. Together,
they print dozens of posters, then head out to post them around the neighbourhood.
As they leave, a fox slips into the garden, barely visible behind a patch of
nettles.
As the artist
leaves, he notices local Lyn Baker standing beside the garden entrance.
Greeting her, he asks if she’s planning to join Friday’s meeting. Lyn, how do
you respond?
[Lyn
responds]
The artist then
turns to Austen Williams, inquiring if he comes by the garden often, and if he’d
like to contribute to it in any way. How would you like to take part in this
community effort, Austen?
[Austen
responds]
Just then,
urban planner Brian Anson walks toward the group. He used to work for the GLC
but grew disillusioned with their plans, instead joining the CGCA’s campaign. Brian,
Lyn, and Austen chat about their ideas for the garden. How do the three of you
imagine it transforming? How can it be a tool of resistance?
[The three
characters discuss]
Let’s walk to
the next lost garden, now the site of another housing project: Dudley Court.
Stop 5: Dudley
Court
It’s July,
1971. The sun has just set, but the streets are filled with flickering light.
Hundreds of protesters holding candles make their way through their
neighbourhood streets and toward Cavell House near St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields,
where hearings will begin the following day.
This public
inquiry became the longest British planning case of its time, lasting forty-two
days in court, but spanning years before reaching a decision. It raised a high
profile, attracting the support of celebrities.
For years, the
CGCA campaigned. They produced countless leaflets, newspapers, posters,
exhibitions, and performances. As the GLC began preparations to demolish
buildings and evict residents, locals took to direct action. They squatted
buildings, held meetings, marched in the streets, and formed committees.
A turning point
came in January 1973, when Geoffrey Rippon, the Secretary of State for the
Environment, listed over 250 buildings under heritage status, making the GLC’s
plans unattainable.
Geoffrey, why
did you feel preserving Covent Garden’s historic architecture was important?
[Geoffrey
responds]
With the GLC’s
plans defeated, the CGCA must have been elated. David Bieda, you were a driving
force of the campaign. Is the battle over?
[David
responds]
In fact, Covent
Garden had only just overcome its first hurdle. The CGCA kept busy devising an alternative
planning document published in 1976, called “Keep the Elephants out of the
Garden” –the elephants being the GLC, of course. But the elephants weren’t
backing down. They agreed to work with the community, but continued to resist
plans for increased affordable housing and building restoration.
The Covent
Garden Forum, first chaired by Reverend Austen Williams, acted as a mediator
between the CGCA and the GLC. With continued pressure, the CGCA successfully
brought many derelict buildings back into use, ultimately restoring over a
thousand flats.
This housing
block, Dudley Court, was completed in 1983 by architecture firm Powell and
Moya. As we walk to our next stop, Earlham House, let’s uncover another lost
garden. Austen, can you point out where it was?
[Walk to the
lost garden]
Stop 6: Lost
Garden No. 2
The community
gardens were built after the major battles with the GLC had been won. The
historic buildings wouldn’t be demolished; the conference centre wouldn’t exist
beyond paper schematics; the residents wouldn’t be priced out of their homes.
This was a peaceful time in the neighbourhood. With the market gone and
buildings boarded up, the streets were empty save local traffic. A former
resident recollected that “this was the most exciting time for the community,
because the authorities didn’t quite know what to do.” With the GLC perplexed
as to how to move forward, the locals took full command of their streets,
holding festivals, plays, and, of course, building gardens.
Robert Pimlott
took on the role of community gardener when he realized the gardens they’d
built weren’t being well maintained. On the first Thursday of every month, the
Gardener’s Club met to make plans. The gardens were themed: the Japanese
Garden, the Water Garden, the Chess Garden. They were social spaces, fostering
a sense of pride in the community, and providing locally grown food.
Today, it’s
quiet in the garden. Robert and his partner, Kathy, are doing some weeding. A
local child, Fiona White, plays with a cat perched on a brick wall. Fiona, what
has been your experience growing up in Covent Garden?
[Fiona
responds]
Kathy has just
heard of plans to develop the garden’s site into a housing block. She’s wary,
but has heard from neighbours complaining of mold and leaky flats, and is
wondering if the development might be good for the community. Robert,
meanwhile, thinks the Community Housing Association should keep pushing for
repair over new builds.
Can the two of
you discuss what you imagine being built over this garden?
[Allow them
to respond]
Just then, CGCA
member Sam Driscoll stops by. He tells Kathy and Robert that he’s planning to
open the Seven Dials Club, a new community centre.
Let’s pass by
the club on our way to the next lost garden, now Earlham House.
Stop 7:
Earlham House
With the Covent
Garden Forum in place, the GLC adapted their approach. The late ‘70s and early
‘80s were busy with restoration projects. Locals were rehoused into council
flats such as this one, Earlham House.
Looking at this
housing block, what do you locals think of the design? Would you want to move
in?
[Allow for
responses]
In 1986, the
GLC, then headed by Labour member Ken Livingstone, was dissolved. With the
CGCA’s enemy gone, did this mean new freedom for the community? In fact, with
local authorities back in control, properties were rapidly sold off for profit.
As we walk
toward Covent Garden’s last remaining community garden, I’d like Fiona White to
point out another lost garden she used to play in. Do you remember where it
was?
[Walk to the
garden]
Stop 8: Lost
Garden No. 3
It’s sometimes
hard to imagine a city’s past or future when confronted with its present built
reality. On our walk, we’ve projected ourselves fifty years into the past. Can
we do the same with the future?
We’ve seen how
gardens can be tools of resistance, modes of occupying space. They are also
experiments in worldmaking, fostering ways of being with each other and the
natural world that are often built out of urban environments.
London is still
home to many community gardens and guerrilla gardening projects, but the
gardens of resistance that appeared across the city in the 70s and 80s seem
like a remnant of some more radical past. Do you think similar tactics could be
used today?
[Allow for
discussion]
In our era of
surveillance, severe policing bills, and privately owned public spaces, gardens-as-occupations
would be risky—but perhaps not impossible with some imaginative organising.
It’s also
important to be critical of who can protest without severe consequences:
Covent Garden in the ‘70s, though working-class, was predominately white. In
regions of London made up of racialized communities, would they have received
the same amount of support? Would they have won the fight against the GLC?
[Allow for
discussion]
We’re going to
walk just up the road to our last stop, the Phoenix Garden: Covent Garden’s
last remaining community garden.
Stop 9:
Phoenix Garden
Let’s take a
moment to pause and reflect in the last of the seven community gardens, the
Phoenix Garden. Built in 1984, this site was bombed in the Second World War,
remaining vacant before being turned into a parking lot. Now, it remains a
sanctuary for passersby and urban wildlife, one of the few calm oases in the
bustling city centre.
Covent Garden in
2023 may not have changed much in form since the 1980s, but its character is
fundamentally different. Now, it’s a major tourist destination in the city,
known for theatres and nightlife. It has become an open-air shopping mall, made
of a repetitious pattern of chain stores and souvenir shops. In fact, not many
visitors to the area, or even Londoners, know that Covent Garden is still a
neighbourhood, with locals who have lived there for generations.
Covent
Gardeners, looking at the legacy of your community’s struggles, what do you
make of its transformation?
[Allow for
discussion]
It’s
undoubtable that Covent Garden has been vastly gentrified in the past few
decades. What happened? Did the CGCA fail after its initial successes?
Ultimately, there were many factors at play, involving forces much larger than
those wielded by a single city district.
Land ownership
is an important factor. With Thatcher’s “Right to Buy” scheme instituted in
1980 and the dissolution of the GLC in 1986, most residents had to leave their
rapidly privatising neighbourhood.
Today, much of
Covent Garden, including Seven Dials and the former market hall, is owned by
property investment company Shaftsbury Capital.
In a way,
Covent Garden got caught in a viscous cycle of greed and opportunism, and the
continued valuation of profit over people. As the CGCA campaigned for building
preservation, regeneration without displacement, affordable housing, and
support for independent businesses, the area grew ever more appealing to
developers.
Over six
thousand people still call Covent Garden home, but the CGCA’s fight for
affordable housing has given way to market forces. Hundreds of AirBnBs inhabit
former family flats. An apartment in Odhams Walk recently sold for over a
million pounds. These patterns are not unique to this neighbourhood, of course,
or even to London.
The Phoenix
Garden’s continued existence is a testament to people power, a living reminder
that when neighbours connect and organise, real change can happen. One day,
perhaps new community gardens will spring up in Covent Garden, rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of failed neoliberal developments.