The Richmond sites: The Tom Cribb pub

In the second of an occasional series, Luke G. Williams looks at some of the sites associated with Bill Richmond's life that pugilistic fans might like to visit. The series continues with a look at Richmond's connection to the Tom Cribb pub in Panton Street, central London, which is today owned by Britain's oldest brewer, Shepherd Neame ...

Sadly, the Horse and Dolphin pub, where slave turned pugilist Bill Richmond was landlord for several years, is no longer in existence and the building which once housed it is also no more.
(Click here for the full story behind Richmond and the Horse and Dolphin).

However, there is still a pub in central London with a significant link to Richmond's incredible life and, indeed, an indelible link to the world of Georgian pugilism as a whole - namely Shepherd Neame's Tom Cribb pub on Panton Street, just off Leicester Square.

The Tom Cribb pub as it is today

Until 1960, the Tom Cribb was known as the Union Arms - so named in celebration of the Act of Union in 1707 between England and Scotland. In the early 19th century the pub's landlord was Richmond's great rival, the eponymous Cribb , who was one of the greatest pugilists of the Georgian age and reigned as English Champion from 1808 until his retirement in 1821. Cribb defeated both Richmond and his protégé Tom Molineaux during a glorious career, although he was inactive for a whole decade of his reign, failing to fight a single competitive contest after his second victory against Molineaux in 1811.

Exactly when Cribb assumed the position as the Union Arms' landlord is unclear, although it was certainly after the second Molineaux contest and before 1818, when Pierce Egan recounted in Boxiana that he had stepped back from boxing in order to "serve his customers in a more palatable style". Prior to taking the reins at the Union Arms, Cribb had also, according to Egan, served for short periods as the landlord of the Golden Lion pub in Borough and the King's Arms in Duke Street, St James's.

By 1821, Cribb was not merely the leasee of the pub but the owner outright, as recounted by Jon Hurley in his book Tom Cribb: The Life of the Black Diamond:

"The Sun Fire Office records of 1821 shows he purchased The Union Arms, Panton Street, for £950. A fair amount in those days. This figure included 'Household Goods', Wearing Apparel, Printed Books and Plate. Stock, Utensils, and Goods in trust add another £500 to the purchase, plus a further £50 for 'China and Glass' ... In 1822, the Sun Fire records reveal that the value of the Union Arms and its contents had risen to a total of £1,800."

Located just off the Haymarket and close to Soho and Leicester Square, under Cribb's aegis the Union Arms soon became a favoured haunt of 'the Fancy', the varied members of high and low society who followed pugilism and other pleasurable sporting pursuits. In Pierce Egan's influential 1821 masterpiece Life in London, 'Cribb's Parlour' was immortalised in Cruikshank's illustration (see top of this page), which indicates that boxing prints were a fixture on the pub's walls, including two which look like they are of Richmond and Molineaux.

Newspapers, journals and books of the period make it clear that visiting the Union Arms was a colourful experience. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, most probably drawing on Cruikshank's illustration of the pub and the folklore surrounding it, later imagined - in his 1909 short story The Lord of Falconbridge - what it would have been like to visit the Union Arms in 1818, writing:

"Behind the bar of this hostelry there was a green baize door which opened into a large, red-papered parlour, adorned by many sporting prints and by the numerous cups and belts which were the treasured trophies of the famous prize-fighter's victorious career. In this snuggery it was the custom of the Corinthians of the day to assemble in order to discuss, over Tom Cribb's excellent wines, the matches of the past, to await the news of the present, and to arrange new ones for the future. Hither also came his brother pugilists, especially such as were in poverty or distress, for the Champion's generosity was proverbial, and no man of his own trade was ever turned from his door if cheering words or a full meal could mend his condition."

Conan Doyle was correct in his insistence that Cribb was a generous soul. This side of his character was amply demonstrated, for example, by his conduct and generosity towards a German dwarf named John Hauptman, who he employed and whose honour he defended, in an incident recounted in Bell's Life in London dated 22 December 1822:

Another famous resident of the Union Arms was Cribb's dog Billy, a canine of  "rat killing celebrity" who was said to have slaughtered upwards of 10,000 rodents in his life, as well as winning every single dog fight he participated in. How many of these acts of violence were committed at the Union Arms is unclear. However, after his death aged 14 in 1829, which was widely reported in the press, Cribb had Billy stuffed and he resided thereafter on the counter of the pub!

During Bill Richmond's later days, when he faced considerable financial challenges, he often met and conversed with Cribb at the Union Arms, helping mend their previously fractious relationship and rivalry. Indeed, the two men became such close friends that it was soon their custom to dine together at the Union Arms on Sunday evenings. It was after one of these meals, on Sunday 27 December 1829, that Richmond returned home before falling ill with a coughing fit and then dying in the early hours of Monday morning.

Cribb and Richmond drinking together, as drawn by Trevor Von Eeden,
in an illustration for my forthcoming book, Richmond Unchained

After Richmond's death, a heartbroken Cribb wrote an extravagant eulogy in Richmond's honour, based on Mark Antony's tribute to Caesar in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Interestingly, Cribb pointed out that although Richmond had been free to "sluice his gob for nothing" in the Union Arms he had always proudly insisted on paying his way. Sadly, Cribb's 'oration' was never delivered in person - the former champion missing Richmond's funeral because of a serious incidence of gout.

Bill Richmond, Cribb's old rival turned friend

As the 1830s advanced and pugilism's popularity declined, Cribb faced increasing financial troubles. Sometime towards the end of the decade, Cribb had to give up the Union Arms, probably around 1839 when Hurley claims he moved to live with his son and daughter-in-law in Woolwich. It was here that the great pugilist died in 1848.

As shown by the research on pubshistory.com, the Union Arms has continued to trade ever since Cribb's death. Although it is thought that the building was substantially rebuilt in 1878, it remains on the same site as in Cribb's day, namely "the corner of Panton Street and Oxendon Street" as described in Bell's Life in London in 1821. Changes in numbering on the street account for the fact that the pub is now 'no. 36' rather than 'no. 26' as it was in Cribb's time.

An old pub sign from the 'Union Arms days'

In 1960, the pub was renamed in Cribb's honour, and today, owned as it is by Shepherd Neame, Britain's oldest brewer, it is a delightful old-fashioned central London boozer, which celebrates its boxing heritage not only through its name and the pub sign, which features a likeness of Cribb, but also with an English Heritage plaque in Cribb's honour and numerous boxing prints on the walls.

For lovers of pugilism, the Tom Cribb is a must-visit if you're ever in London and, as readers to this blog will discover in the next few days, an exciting new boxing memorial will soon adorn the walls of the pub which will further reinforce its links to the glorious and fascinating history of boxing ...  

Waterloo week: When Shaw sparred with Molineaux

Tom Molineaux, as rendered by The Sporting Magazine

The Battle of Waterloo took place 200 years ago this week. As Britain goes Waterloo-mad,  I'll be presenting a series of features in which I look at aspects of the famous battle which intersected with the world of pugilism inhabited by slave turned boxer Bill Richmond, the subject of my forthcoming book Richmond Unchained. Today this series begins with a look at the January 1812 sparring battle between Richmond's protégé Tom Molineaux and Lifeguardsman John Shaw, who would die a heroic death on the Belgian battle-field three years later ...

In January 1812, Bill Richmond was in a bitter mood. Tom Cribb had solidly beaten Richmond's protégé Tom Molineaux a few months earlier in their rematch for the English Boxing Championship, thus destroying Richmond's long-held ambition of overseeing the accession of a black boxer to the position of champion. To add insult to injury, it was a fight in which Richmond had invested pretty much every penny he possessed. Molineaux's defeat had therefore left him in desperate financial straits, and in danger of losing his status as landlord of the popular public house the Horse and Dolphin.

No sooner had the fight at Thistleton Gap concluded than the disputes which had raged between Richmond and Molineaux during the contest's build-up - which had mainly centred around Molineaux's lack of focused and dedicated training - flared up again.

By January 1812, the former friends had gone their separate ways and Molineaux was no longer a resident of the Horse and Dolphin. Richmond retreated to the north of England for a while to lick his proverbial wounds and try and ease his financial problems by giving a series of sparring exhibitions in a Manchester theatre with his old friend Tom Belcher. Molineaux, meanwhile, basked in the fame and attention that he had earned in his two epic contests with Cribb by remaining in London.

Perhaps in a bid to further irritate Richmond, whose relationship with Cribb had been mutually antagonistic for several years, Molineaux eagerly agreed to appear at a benefit the champion had arranged at the Fives Court on Thursday 30 January.

It was an event that would see the emergence of a formidable new pugilistic contender who many boxing experts remain convinced could have eventually become English Champion, had he not been killed at Waterloo in 1815.

This new contender's name was John Shaw.

Shaw was a splendid and sturdy specimen of English manhood. A near giant for the time, he stood over six foot tall, and weighed around 15 stone. Born in Nottinghamshire in 1789, he was said to have impressed the great Jem Belcher with his fighting ability and heart during a local set-to in his native county, prior to arriving in London after enlisting in the army in 1807 as a lifeguardsman.

With the likes of John Jackson showing eager interest in his pugilistic promise, an appearance at Cribb's benefit was a logical step in launching a potential prize-fighting career.

The contests at such benefits were not proper competitive contests, rather they were 'exhibitions'  and often utilised gloves (or 'mufflers') rather than bare knuckles. Nevertheless, despite their occasionally playful nature, many pugilists took such spars extremely seriously, especially ambitious newcomers who saw them as an opportunity to make a name for themselves and perhaps attract a patron from among the monied ranks of the Fancy.

This particular Thursday afternoon the Fives was packed to the rafters with around 1,500 eager spectators. The first spar saw Molineaux tangle with Jack Powers, a combustible young hot-head who both he and Richmond had mixed with with on previous occasions.

A couple of set-tos of 'inferior note' then took place before Molineaux took to the stage again, this time with Shaw in opposition. The Sporting Magazine recounted what happened next:

Shaw's impressive performance emboldened him greatly, and when Molineaux took to the stage after the exhibition, a fight between the two men was rapidly brokered:

In the event, a formal contest between the two men never took place. Instead, Shaw made his prize-ring debut on 12 July 1812 at Coombe Warren against Burrows, a former Molineaux victim, soundly beating him in thirteen rounds and just seventeen minutes.

A second impressive victory for Shaw followed against Ned Painter in April 1815 at Hounslow Heath, after the great battle between Harry Harmer and Tom Shelton. Shaw-Painter proved a one-sided slaughter, with the lifeguardsman at one point dishing out "ten knock down blows successively" before Painter was led away in a "deplorable" state after twenty-eight minutes.

According to Pierce Egan, Shaw's performance proved he had "materially improved as a scientific pugilist", while the man himself was now confident that "no boxer existed who could conquer him". The Fancy were divided as to whether this was true or not, but many were salivating at the prospect of a potential Shaw versus Cribb title contest.

Fate, however, had different ideas.

After Napoleon had returned to power in France in March 1815, the Seventh Coalition formed and Shaw's lifeguards were eventually ordered to the continent as part of the effort to resist the resurgent 'Boney'. It was said that some members of the Fancy offered to purchase Shaw's discharge from the army in order to preserve his pugilistic ambitions, but he would not hear of it.

On the morning of 18 June 1815, Shaw was among the 118,000 strong force opposing Napoleon. In the wake of the Coalition's glorious and hard-earned victory, described by the Duke of Wellington as "the nearest-run thing you ever saw in your life", news soon filtered back to England of Shaw's death and heroism, although accounts of his role in the battle and the circumstances of his death varied greatly.

For example, on 1 July, the York Herald reported that Shaw's head had been "carried off by a cannon ball", while Saunders News-letter of 15 July reported that Shaw had killed five Frenchman before receiving a "mortal wound". The Lancaster Gazette of 22 July, meanwhile, recounted the following particulars concerning Shaw's role in the battle and his death:

Henry Charles Moore, writing in the Dictionary of National Biography in 1901, described Shaw's role at Waterloo in greater detail. Although substantial debate exists concerning how accurate Moore's account is and what Shaw's exact movements were that day, common consent exists that he died a hero's death:

Corporal Shaw was sent out in command of a foraging party, but hurried back with his men in time to take part in the first charge. A cuirassier rode straight at Shaw, who calmly parried the thrust, and with one terrific stroke, the first blow he had dealt in real warfare, cut through the Frenchman's helmet and skull down to the chin. Shaw then rode at an eagle-bearer, killed him, and seized the eagle. He relinquished it, however, while cutting his way through the foes who immediately surrounded him. Although wounded, he took part in several other charges, exhibiting on each occasion his strength and marvellous dexterity with the sword. In the last charge but one made by the 2nd lifeguards, Shaw became separated from his comrades, and was quickly surrounded by the enemy. He fought desperately and killed nine of his opponents before his sword broke. Scorning surrender, he tore the helmet from his head, and, using it as a cestus, dealt some terrific blows before he fell to the ground, picked off by a cuirassier, who sat a little distance away, coolly firing his carbine.

After the battle was won Shaw struggled on in the track of his victorious countrymen, and at night a wounded lifeguardsman, lying on a dungheap, saw Shaw crawling towards him. 'Ah, my dear fellow, I'm done for!' Shaw whispered feebly, and lay down beside him. At daybreak he was found there dead.

Shaw was buried at La Haye Sainte, near to Waterloo and it was later said that his remains, or at least his skull, were transported to England, possibly on the promptings of Sir Walter Scott, the famous historical writer.

Today, Shaw's remarkable life and death are commemorated at the Household Cavalry Museum in London, where a plaster cast of his skull is still on display, as well in the form of a memorial obelisk in a churchyard in Cossall in his native Nottinghamshire, which also pays tribute to two other lifeguardsmen slain at Waterloo.

However it is John Haskins' 1816 poem The Battle of Waterloo: A Poem in Two Cantos which forms the most appropriate epitaph for Shaw, who was undoubtedly one of the most colourful and tragic figures from boxing and military history:

"Nor 'mongst her humbler sons shall Shaw e'er die,

Immortal deeds defy mortality."

A print from 1816 showing Shaw battling the French at Waterloo

The Richmond sites: The Horse and Dolphin

In the first of an occasional series, Luke G. Williams looks at some of the sites associated with Bill Richmond's life that pugilistic fans might like to visit. The series begins with a look at some of the confusion surrounding the location of Richmond's former public house The Horse and Dolphin ...

Bill Richmond fanatics will be aware that the great pugilist of the 19th century was once landlord of a pub known as the Horse and Dolphin, just off Leicester Square. Contrary to the myth that marrying a wealthy woman enabled Richmond to assume proprietorship of a pub once jokingly referred to by famed boxing writer Pierce Egan as 'The Prad and Swimmer', it is likely that Richmond's winnings from his victories against Isaac Wood and George Maddox in 1809 provided the economic ballast for his new-found status as a landlord. Land tax records suggest he assumed proprietorship of the pub in 1810.

For a couple of years, Richmond led a lucrative and happy existence at the Horse and Dolphin. The journal Bell's Life in London vividly described this period, which coincided with Richmond mentoring fellow former slave Tom Molineaux to the brink of the English Boxing Championship, and the Horse and Dolphin becoming known as "the headquarters of the black work":

As Bell's Life also mentioned, Richmond was forced to leave the Horse and Dolphin after he fell on hard economic times when Molineaux lost his rematch against Cribb for the English Boxing Championship, a contest for which Richmond was his principal backer as well as his trainer. Land tax records suggest he left the pub sometime in 1812.

For years there has been confusion about where exactly the Horse and Dolphin was located, despite clear historical references to its location at 25 St Martin's Street (a road that snakes southwards from Leicester Square) - references, incidentally, which are backed up by land tax records and other documentation.

Horwood's map of London from the 1790s, coupled with research from the City of Westminster Archives Centre, indicates that 25 St Martin's Street was located at the southernmost corner of the street, where the road begins to swing around and meet with Whitcomb Street.

25 St Martin's Street is marked in red on this map (courtesy of City Westminster Archives Service)

Confusion seems to have arisen because, during Richmond's lifetime, his pub was not the only 'Horse and Dolphin' to grace the streets of London - there was also a pub with the same name based in Macclesfield Street in Soho, on the site now occupied by the well-known 'Dutch pub' De Hems. This is the reason why the Wikipedia page for De Hems, as well as several other websites, erroneously claims that De Hems was "once owned by bare-knuckle boxer Bill 'The Black Terror' Richmond in the early 19th century". It's an understandable mistake to make, particularly given the existence of a small alleyway named Horse and Dolphin yard to the right of De Hems, and the proximity of the site to Leicester Square, where some sources have lazily stated Richmond's pub was located.

Sadly, unlike De Hems, the site once occupied by Richmond's Horse and Dolphin in St Martin's Street is no more. In the 1820s many of the streets near to Leicester Square were gradually redeveloped to make way for the construction of Trafalgar Square. The Fives Court in St Martin's Lane, which for years had been London's leading pugilistic exhibition venue, was one such building to be demolished.

By this stage, Richmond himself had long since ceased being landlord of the Horse and Dolphin. Nevertheless, the pub itself stubbornly survived this period of urban development; a map from 1871 clearly shows its location at the southern end of St Martin's Street (marked by the initials P.H. - public house), as well as the nearby existence of the new National Gallery building, designed by William Wilkins which had begun construction in 1832 as part of the extended Trafalgar Square project.

The Horse and Dolphin pub was still in business in 1871, as marked here with the initials P.H.
(see the left-hand side of the map, at the southern end of St Martin's Street)

Furthermore, records held by the London Metropolitan Archives prove that the Horse and Dolphin was still in existence and trading under this name until at least October 1950. However, I have been unable to establish exactly when it ceased trading, or when the building itself was demolished. (If anyone has any information about the Horse and Dolphin post-1950, I'd love to hear from you. I'd also love to find an illustration or photo of the pub, having never succeeded in finding one. Email me at lgw007@yahoo.com if you can help!)

The most likely explanation of the Horse and Dolphin's demise is that it occurred during the 1980s when the Sainsbury Wing was added to the National Gallery. Certainly this seems the most likely date when the building was demolished, although the pub may have ceased trading earlier.

If you compare this modern-day map to the one from 1871, it is clear that the north-east corner of
the Sainsbury wing is located where the Horse and Dolphin / no. 25 St Martin's Street used to be

Today, if you want to stand where Bill Richmond's pub once was, all there is to mark his former home and business is a bland concrete wall to the rear of the National Gallery. It's hardly a fitting memorial to the world's first black sporting superstar ... which leads me neatly on to the subject of Shepherd Neame's Tom Cribb pub in Panton Street, for reasons which I'll reveal more about in due course ...