Elder Street

In order to understand the nature of the argument surrounding the development of Norton Folgate, it is important to see it in the context of Elder Street, one of the best of the surviving Spitalfields streets, where Mark Gertler lived and later Raphael Samuel and now Dan Cruickshank.   The city looms nearby.   But there is still a domestic presence resisting the incursion:-

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9 thoughts on “Elder Street

  1. Toshio Kusamitsu says:

    It was good read your post on Elder Street where I live in the latter half of 1970s at No 9, Raphael Samuel’s house. The photos evoked my memory of the place. I remember in particular the time when Dan Cruikshank and others quoted the house which Dan eventually managed to get hod of. We all went the developer who tried to knock down the part of the eighteenth century house. Raphael then was wearing a tweed suit with a tie, the only time I remember him wearing a tie!

  2. Toshio Kusamitsu says:

    I am sorry to say that I realized many misspellings in my last post. I should like to correct some:
    It was good to read your post on Elder Street where I lived in the latter half of 1970s at No 9, Raphael Samuel’s house. The photos evoked my memories of the place. I remember in particular the time when Dan Cruikshank and others squatted the house which Dan eventually managed to get hold of. We all went to the developer who tried to knock down the part of the eighteenth century house in order to protest. Raphael then was wearing a tweed suit with a tie, the only time I remember him wearing a tie!

    I should also add to those memories that we from time to time went to the tours in East End led by Bill Fishman who was then at Queen Mary’s. Thanks to him I acquired a great deal of history in East End. Also a nice delicatessen run by a Jewish man, and I bought several carps that were transported from Hungary before Christmas . He sold good salamis too. Alas it was a long time ago now.

  3. Toshio Kusamitsu says:

    I don’t remember, perhaps it was in Crispin Street near the Spitalfields Market. It was a tiny shop run by an old Hungarian man who looked like Sir George Solty, a great conductor. When my cat was missing he was kind enough to put the poster on his shop window. The cat was, I was informed, killed by one of many rollies that were carrying fruits and vegetables to the market. A sad memory.

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