In the annals of history, we have the sublime and the ridiculous. The Tower Subway of London—a rudimentary attempt at public transport—sits squarely in the latter category.
Imagine yourself in London in 1870 will an overwhelming need to get from the Tower of London across the Thames to visit, well, whatever the heck was across the Thames from the Tower back then. They hadn’t invented photographs or the interwebs yet, so I guess we’ll never know.
Anyway, the Tower Bridge was years in the future (24 years, to be roughly exact) and boats across were sooooo slooooooow. So two Victorian engineering whizzes* Peter W. Barlow and James Henry Greathead—two men who probably had a penchant for saying, “Hold my beer” before diving headfirst into a bonkers project**—thought to themselves, “Selves, what if we burrowed a tunnel under the river?”
Brilliant!
Barlow and Greathead dug out a 1/4-mile tunnel connecting Tower Hill on the north side of the river to Tooley Street on the south.† Before we move on to the more ludicrous aspects of this very first “Can we really call this a Tube?” Tube to be built before the London Tube, I should point out that this was the first tunnel in the world to be dug using Greathead’s shield technology.
Remarkably, it took less than a year to dig the tunnel. I mean, it was just (quick math…5280 divided by 4 equals) 1320 feet long, which is about (more quick math…1320 divided by 3 equals) 440 yards—roughly the length of 12 adult blue whales lined up nose to tail (if there were blue whales in the Thames) or four football fields (English football, not American football). The tunnel was barely seven feet in diameter with a cable-drawn system to transport 12-person carriages back and forth under the river.
Despite these shortcomings, and because Victorians were nothing if not highly class-conscious, they still sold first- and second-class tickets. I mean, all 12 of them had to sit in the same itty-bitty subway car, but first-class passengers got first dibs going up the elevator at the other end. Even in the least comfortable conditions, it’s important to maintain the social order.
I know it’s hard to believe, but this nascent subway was, how shall we say, destined for failure. It broke down twice during a press-only experimental run—that’s twice in the space of 12 adult blue whales lined up nose to tail—which absolutely cratered early publicity. Then a man named Thomas Francis Jannang died in a freak accident when his head popped like a ripe melon when it was caught between the top of the lift and the edge of the ground floor.† Turns out freak elevator accidents do not encourage eager ridership.
The company went bust in a matter of months.
The carriages were removed, and the subway was turned into a pedestrian underpass. For a halfpenny, Londoners—first- or second-class Londoners, it no longer mattered—could descend into the damp earth, stroll the width of the Thames (which is like…oh, never mind), and emerge, blinking like moles, into the light of the day moon.
"[I] commenced groping my way through what looked like gigantic rats’ hole, lighted at intervals with gas jets. The narrow rails on which the carriage ran at one time are still down and serve admirably to trip up passengers and knock their heads against the girders whenever two have occasion to pass each other. Here and there the footpath is wet and sloppy. This is, perhaps, unavoidable, but it is certainly an unpleasant feature. The safety of the structure is, no doubt, beyond question, but the leakage very forcibly suggests the idea that thousands upon thousands of tons of water are overhead, and one is by no means sorry reach the other turnstile."
—Some anonymous Victorian guy, Clerkenwell News, June 30, 1871
The Tower Bridge opened in 1898, offering a toll-free crossing and a negligible risk of subterranean death. And with that, the Tower Subway was relegated to the dustbin of history.
But in a twist worthy of a Dickens novel, the Tower Subway played a crucial role in shaping the future of London. That tunneling shield technology I mentioned earlier? Turns out that was the precursor of the tech used to construct the massive, sprawling London Underground.
These days, the tunnel is used only for water mains and telecom cables. All that remains aboveground are a plain walled off utility box on the south side and a handsome brick drum above the original access shaft on the north side that is passed by millions of tourists every year—most blissfully ignorant of the underground underdog forever eclipsed by its more successful successor but deserving of its own peculiar glory.
Even in monumental failure we find the seeds of success. Or at least, a great story to tell.
* Hah! I totally just said “whizzes”!
** I’m pretty sure Victorians didn't really use the phrase “hold my beer” as a colloquialism to indicate that someone was about to do something reckless, asinine, or potentially dangerous. They probably said something more like “Watch and be astounded” or “Observe this, if you will, my good chap" before embarking on their daring endeavor. Whatever they said, you know they said it in some ridiculously posh accent.
† Ah, Tooley Street, that’s whatever the heck was across the Thames from the Tower back then. Still is, far as I know.
†† Seriously, do NOT put arms or head out the window!
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