Pedagogue or Paedophile?
A long, long, time ago, just after World War 11, six licenses were granted to war veterans that allowed them to take commercial photographs in Trafalgar Square thus overriding the obscure by-law that had long prevented this means of earning an honest crust.
In 1961, Nicky Connors was just such a photographer. With his velvet collared camel-haired coat, shinny mohair suit and winkle picker shoes, he was the epitome of ‘East End boy made good’. Armed with ancient Leica cameras, pet monkeys for novelty and a stall selling pigeon food for added attraction, they would patrol Trafalgar Square daily in search of new potential customers.
Inevitably they knew the ways of ‘the Square’ so intimately that a newcomer ‘hanging around’ and not obviously a tourist was cause for comment. A 13 year old school girl who had appeared on the Square for three days running, as I had, hoping to meet up with a friend after we had separated during our flight from a children’s home, in the only place in London that we both knew the name of, was attracting considerable attention. Not least, unnoticed by me, from a young police constable watching me from a distance. Nicky arrived at my side, ‘Come and join us for lunch’ he said, ‘Copper over there is watching you, time to move’.
I needed no second bidding, too naive to contemplate the possible dangers in walking off with Nicky and his colleague, I did understand the implications of attracting police attention. The old Lyon’s Corner House stood just yards away on the corner of The Strand, a haven of good cheap food, still presided over by the ‘Nippies’ in their black dresses and starched aprons. We entered the front door with Nicky firmly holding my arm, threaded our way between the tables – and emerged from a back door into Craven Street! No food had touched our lips. As we huddled in the back doorway, a hurried conversation took place.
‘Have you eaten’?
‘No’.
‘Did you want to talk to that copper’?
‘No’.
There was no further discussion as to what my situation might be, no intrusive questions.
‘Follow me’, said Nicky, and I did, down a dingy flight of stairs into his basement ‘studio’. ‘Make yourself tea, biscuits are in there, I’ll be back in an hour’.
There was a dim red light in the room, over my head were string lines on which were pegged hundreds of photographs of tourists, some holding Lazarus the pet monkey, some fending off hordes of pigeons, all laughing and smiling. I made tea, munched biscuits, and waited.
He returned at nightfall, clutching a bag of fish and chips.
‘Here, get yourself outside that lot’, he said. ‘Plod ‘as gone ‘ome, you’re safe now. Run away from ‘ome ‘ave you’?
‘Children’s Home’ I replied glumly. I poured out my tale of my missing ‘friend’ who had an aunt who would house us.
‘Can’t hang about on the Square every day now’, he said, ‘me an’ Len will keep an eye out for her, have you got somewhere to go tonight’?
‘No’.
‘There’s a room up the top you can have’.
He led me up a spiral staircase, past suites of deserted offices and eventually emerged through a concealed door into a glazed roof top cabin, with views across half London. I later learned that it had been the studio of a war time cartoonist of some repute; rented from the Railways Board at the peppercorn rent of £1 a year, the artist had paid 50 years rent in advance and then disappeared. There was a decidedly grubby mattress, a few blankets, and sheafs of old cartoons. A place of safety but not of comfort.
‘No one will bother you here, but get yourself down into my studio before the offices open at 9, there’s a toilet on the third floor, and you can make tea in my place’. With that he was gone.
To modern ears, this must sound the stuff of parental nightmares. 13 year old girl, plucked from the path of rescuing policeman, photographers ill lit den, concealed hiding place. Surely I must be about to tell you of my early experiences at the hands of a paedophile?
Far, far, from it! Nicky was a born pedagogue, a tutor, his interest in me was confined to teaching me the ways in which I could honestly support myself; a great believer in personal responsibility, he found me a job -washing up in the Charring Cross Hotel – he showed me how to obtain documents that enabled me to ‘work’ as a legitimate ’18 year old’, he made sure I always had a safe haven to return to. Never, never, in all the years I knew him did that man betray by thought, deed, or innuendo, any dishonourable interest in me. Seven years later he was best man at my wedding, standing on my right, in the only photograph I have of that special day when I was briefly reunited with my Father, on my left.
I wasn’t seduced into a life of sleazy ’porn’ photographs, nor of drugs. I’ve never smoked a ‘joint’ to this day – far too busy following Nicky’s example and earning a living.
What has brought all this to mind is that I hear it is now illegal to take any photographs in Trafalgar Square, prohibited under Terrorism laws. The pigeons have gone, seen off by Ken Livingstone’s dislike of ‘vermin’. The photographers and the monkeys have gone. Lyon’s Corner House has gone. The feminism of the 60′s has left us with a legacy of mistrust of men. They represent a ‘danger’ to all, especially children.
Are men really any different today? Probably, is my answer. No more dangerous, but considerably more cautious. Probably, today, Nicky would be aware of the great danger I represented to him, of perhaps ending up on the Sex Offenders Register. There were dangers present in those days; some 40 years later I made contact with my ‘friend’, she had been caught and returned to the Home mere hours after our escape – and eighteen months later had been seduced and impregnated by one of the male staff. Some place of safety.
I don’t believe that human nature has changed in the interim. There are still decent men like Nicky Connors out there. What has changed is that we have a shrill cacophony of legislation that lures us into a belief that danger can be legislated against.
I don’t believe it can.
Government can legislate and punish, they can condemn, they can vilify, they can make more cautious, but they cannot turn good men into bad, nor bad men into good.
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September 16, 2014 at 10:45 am -
That’s a cracking photo Anna!
And yes, there are still plenty of decent guys around. Human nature hasn’t changed, only the terms of our engagement with it. -
September 16, 2014 at 10:55 am -
September 16, 2014 at 11:03 am -
Nicky would still have been in trouble back then, if he’d been caught. Harbouring a fugitive from Justice was a criminal offence and as soon as you ran away from police officers in pursuance of their duty, you became a fugitive. Plus he then enabled you to misrepresent yourself as 18 when you were not. The offences were numerous I imagine. I’ll bet he fiddled his Income Tax too, the scoundrel…..
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September 16, 2014 at 10:07 pm -
the scoundrel…..
Rough…salt of the earth…working class hero… that the 1960’s were full of.
It wasn’t all bubble-and-squeek and Watney’s Red Barrel you know. It was about people who knew that those that look down have no idea how the other half lived. If they’d had half a chance the Rolling Stones would be serving hard time for tax evasion, drug trafficking and outraging of public morals.
Taking the posh version “Phuq ‘em all”.
I’m supportive of the teen runaway and the anti-establishment rebel.
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September 16, 2014 at 11:16 am -
What a story. What an uplifting tale, one that keeps the flame of hope alive. Brilliant.
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September 16, 2014 at 1:32 pm -
The Bye-Laws covering Trafalgar Square require that professional photographers and news media taking pictures there and in Parliament square get prior authorisation as does any form of “Commercial Photography” for which fees are chargeable.
https://www.london.gov.uk/sites/default/files/Media-Authorisation-Scheme-2012.pdf
But there are no direct restrictions on amateur/tourist photography in theory unless in the opinion of the unifomed “Heritage Wardens” they are carrying “professional looking” photographic equipment and “appear to be” undertaking “Commercial Photography” in which case the Wardens will “enquire about their purpose” and if found to be non-commercial, they will be “able to continue”
I wonder what constitutes “professional looking” for this purpose ? In my personal experience in the North East of England, being closer to 60 than 50 and wandering around with a DSLR and a camera bag in holiday time is sufficient to attract the attention of PCSO’s and their like “enquiring about my purpose” in public areas. They get het up when you refuse to let them see what pictures you’ve taken…..
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September 16, 2014 at 2:04 pm -
One of the reasons why I film some of the time. Busybodies can neither review nor request deletion of pictures.
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September 16, 2014 at 3:29 pm -
One of my hobbies has always been taking photo’s of street scenes – always had a thing about lamp-posts & cars since I was in a pushchair.
It does sometimes attract idiots though “what ya doing?” “that’s a bit weird” “you should be careful” etc.
A good job I’ve just about seen quite enough then….-
September 16, 2014 at 3:42 pm -
Check out the introduction to this image from a bird-lover:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/daveyboy_75/4618124217/-
September 16, 2014 at 3:48 pm -
The notion that the nation is plagued by men taking photo’s of kids doing everyday things in everyday clothes for sexual gratfication is beyond absurd.. It would mean the hard-of-thinking would be compelled to covering their children in burka’s 24/7 for a start… and wouldn’t any such perverts be able to get their rocks off to catalogues and crap television? And walk around town centres during the day in a permanent state of arousal?
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September 16, 2014 at 2:05 pm -
…why I *use* film…
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September 16, 2014 at 2:17 pm -
An omitted detail, and one which might make all the difference in this story, is whether our Nick fancied females in general.
This is, of course, not to gainsay the magnanimity and benevolence of what he did for our landlady in her time of need, but frankly, is there being made virtue out of happenstance? Let’s remove the question of age from this: Let’s say the female in question is a somewhat MILFy early-fortyish woman leaving an abusive relationship, with no one to turn to, nowhere to go, and no dosh to do it with. A youngish gentleman comes along and rescues her in much the same way (with the possible exception of the age documents, so let’s substitute immigration status).
It might be lauded as the act of a truly good person to someone in their darkest time, but if he doesn’t fancy women, full-stop end of, wouldn’t that have a significant bearing on the discussion?One suspects that an unmarried heterosexual male in that era, who would have seen, say, a runaway boy, and thinking back to his own chaotic life in the War years, felt sorry for the lad and did the same sort of thing (at no time looking to exploit the young man sexually since the thought would simply not have occurred to him), would still nonetheless come in for some scrutiny?
I shouldn’t like to, as some say, “pee in the milk” of human kindness, but I do have to ask whether the possibility of a sexual interest in such a young woman were never on the cards on Mr. Connors’ part?
Sorry if I’ve harshed anyone’s “warm-and-fuzzy” buzz.
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September 16, 2014 at 2:57 pm -
“… but I do have to ask whether the possibility of a sexual interest in such a young woman were never on the cards on Mr. Connors’ part?”
You didn’t have to ask, but you did so let’s go with that. It’s your opinion that it would undermine the ‘milk of human kindness’ element of the story, and I don’t think it would. He still went out of his way to offer support and shelter to a young person. Questions would still have been asked of him, had this situation been discovered, so there was still some element of risk that he bore, so this – for me – is still an entirely altruistic act, an act that would not be lessened by a lack of any interest in the opposite sex in general. Just a shame that today you have to question this, that you feel it would lessen the kindness being shown if he was found to have no interest in the opposite sex at all. Just a shame, really, that you have to openly speculate as to his sexuality.
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September 16, 2014 at 3:44 pm -
Goodnight Mr. Tom…
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September 16, 2014 at 4:04 pm -
fauxguy highlights the difference between skepticism and cynicism
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September 16, 2014 at 4:28 pm
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September 16, 2014 at 2:58 pm -
therealguyfaux –No more than speculation on your part Guy and surely what matters is not whether the kindness was totally selfless (though I am inclined to believe it to have been) but that the kindness was sufficiently selfless to subsume any self interest.
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September 16, 2014 at 3:00 pm -
A good tale Anna and proof that most people are actually quite sound at bottom!
We get the same thing (still) at the various bike shows and rallies and such places as the Ace cafe; loads of young women wanting a ride from us crusty old sods – who generally have very soft centres. They are, despite what their Mums and Dads would fear, quite safe with us and it is also true that any oaf chancing his arm with one would get a kicking of Biblical proportion!
A pity that our society no longer seems to recognise the fundamental good in people, best just to ignore the shrill curtain twitchers and prod-nosed council wonks, their time is limited.-
September 16, 2014 at 4:25 pm -
Good God! Is the Ace cafe still with us? I thought it had closed years ago. North Circular Raod, right?
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September 16, 2014 at 4:52 pm -
Yes indeedy, still there and fully refurbished, you cant move for the bikers there most weekends. Was a tyre place for a while but boufght back and reopened some years back, they still have the original plates and cutlery in a cupboard and they sell all sorts of memorabilia. Give me a shout and I’ll treat you to a bacon sarnie and a thunder about next time you’re over (Mr G too of course)
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September 16, 2014 at 4:54 pm -
September 16, 2014 at 5:21 pm -
The last time Mr G was on a motor bike he put the handle bar through his spleen – I don’t envisage giving him the chance to do that again, definitely not. Still he’s managed 50 odd years without a spleen.
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September 18, 2014 at 3:42 pm -
So, he vented his spleen, then?
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September 16, 2014 at 3:10 pm -
Another fine installment about your fantastic young life Anna!
Society’s lost a lot now kind people like Mr. Connors are no longer around, “keeping an eye out” for those in potential danger. Ditto the daily delivery of milk, mostly long gone: although a few might have been the Benny Hill stereotype of a “naughty” milkman, the majority would spot problems and provide social care which augmented the “bobby on the beat”. That too – it’s so unusual now to see a policeman on foot, even though most – public & police – accept he/she is much more effective at crime prevention on the beat than whizzing by in a car. But did we behave better because a policeman might be around the next corner? No, we behaved because we were brought up to respect others in an instilled moral framework sadly lacking for most today.
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September 16, 2014 at 4:44 pm -
@ a few might have been the Benny Hill stereotype of a “naughty” milkman @
To my memory Ernie got himself killed for love of Sue, who was more interested in Ted’s treacle tarts than ernie’s milk of human kindness.
Just sayin’
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September 16, 2014 at 3:49 pm -
“I always carry a flask of whiskey, in case I see a snake… I also carry a snake!” [W. C. Fields]
There are two types of altruistic people: the altruistic, and those who seek control by other means.
The former aim to reduce need; whereas the latter earn their bread and butter by inventing it.
By giving the public mandate of controlling ‘kindness’, to the social services, the latter have the money and power to displace the former entirely; to the point where you need a licence to be human.
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September 16, 2014 at 4:54 pm -
Interesting story. By the way, I believe the spelling is Charing Cross not Charring. My uncle had a farm at the village of Charing in Kent, which I guess is the origin of the name as Charing Cross station sends trains to Orpington and outer Kent which makes residents of Charing cross.
I also used to sometimes hang around Trafalgar Square and Soho when I was 16/17 in 1968. Lots of souvenir shops selling tacky souvenirs like Union Jack patterned underpants and psychedelia, and some decent bookshops in Charing Cross Road. I guess the Union Jack will soon be a thing of the past too when Scotland sets sail and forms the United Tartan Republic of Scotland, Mull, Oban, Orkney, Shetland, and the Hebrides.
I guess the Open Championship of golf in Scotland will be a thing of the past.
Will the new Scottish currency be called the Thistle?
No pigeons any more in Trafalgar Square? Now I know I shall never return to England again. It doesn’t exist any more.
Was amused the other day to hear the BBC 4 radio announcer mentioning the name of the Scottish leader as Mr. Sammond. I had always assumed from reading it that his name was pronounced SAL-mond, but apparently in the UK, he is pronounced like an jumping fish that is frequently smoked. If he takes over responsibility for Scotland, he will have to make sure Scotch eggs are free of SAMMON-ella and try to avoid smoking the fish so he does not end up kippered.
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September 16, 2014 at 5:17 pm -
What a great article. And with a nice photo too! It certainly puts recent developments in perspective and is a reminder of how things should be.
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September 16, 2014 at 5:27 pm -
That photo has a tale of its own to tell – when my Mother died ten years ago or so, my brother, on sorting through her belongings came upon an unopened envelope addressed to my Father. On opening it he came upon six photographs, duly sent by the ‘Trafalgar Square photographers’ to the address he had given them.
He gave them to me – Nicky Connors had done what he always did – asked the subject of his photographs for an address to send them to when developed! Nobody had ever opened the letter.
Thus I now have the photographs.-
September 16, 2014 at 5:43 pm -
That’s amazing. Just as well he opened the envelope!
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September 16, 2014 at 5:28 pm -
Sometime in the late 70s, my parents took me and my brother on a Day.Trip.To.L O N D O N! I have empathized that last bit cos, believe it or not, I was the only kid in my class who had ever been to London. First year at the Secondary Modern most of the kids who came from the outlying villages referred to Norwich as ‘the City’ -not that most of them had ever been ‘up’ there either, except perhaps to go to The Royal Norfolk Show once a year…or if their parents had emigrated from the South, and had money, then maybe to the Xmas Panto at the Theatre Royal.
I seem to recall at least one Photographer at Traf Sq with a monkey (surely an EVIL MAN EXPLOITING AN INNOCENT ANIMAL and an RSPCA arrestable offence these days) selling us tourists pigeon food. Other memories of the day included the wooden Tube carriages, the sea of Bowler hats, brollies and pinstripes of the Somethings In The City disgorging from Liverpool St, that all the buildings were still black & Safe Cracking at the Science Museum.
It pleases me to think I may have met your Nick , however en passant.
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September 16, 2014 at 6:10 pm -
September 16, 2014 at 8:58 pm -
The ‘shinny’ coat sounds salubrious! I want one!
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September 16, 2014 at 9:19 pm -
As a 1960’s O level exam might have phrased it:
Compare and contrast the morals of the 1960 East-end London spiv with those of the 2010 Pakistani Rotherham inhabitant. Give examples.
Compare also the efforts of the 1960’s Metropolitan police to assist citizens to similar efforts by 2010 South Yorkshire constabulary.
Finally discuss the use of police to silence dissent amongst white males in Rotherham leading up to 2010.
Extra points may be awarded if a discussion of Liebour control of South Yorkshire social agencies support your comments.“All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing”……..but in twenty-first century England that will see you threatened with removal of your children.
That is an exceptionally nice photo.
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September 17, 2014 at 3:17 pm -
As Anna’s post concerned Trafalgar Square, and the morals of people who patrolled the area, my mind takes me back, many, many years ago to my travelling down to London on the night train on my way to join a ship, being an Electrical Officer in the Merchant Navy. Dropping my heavy bags at Charing Cross station where I would get the connection to where my new ship was berthed, and as it was still very early, I strolled back towards Trafalgar Square to buy some breakfast. The first really-early-opening place was a Golden Egg, so I subsided on to a bench seat, and ordered the full works from a sleepy waitress.
Now you must understand that it was still only about half-six in the morning, and I was the only customer, in a fairly large restaurant room. I was about half-way through my eggs, bacon, black pudding, toast etc. when this slightly-greasy bloke sidled up and sat down in the next alcove to me, and began chatting. As I was still half-asleep, I let him wander on a bit, until he sidled a little too close and asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
Suddenly alert, I gazed back at this small imitation of a human being, and replied, “I don’t care if you burst into flames, just don’t do it around me!” As I was far stronger, fitter and faster in those days-gone-by, I must have given him the correct impression, because he got up and almost ran out of the place. The waitress, together with the alarmingly-large manager, just nodded in satisfaction as I finished my breakfast in peace. As I paid my bill, the large bloke just said, “I see your education has been rounded already!”
As Anna noted, not everyone was a deviant, but you had to be alert to be safe.
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September 17, 2014 at 11:54 pm -
What a great post. Reminds me of the book Mister God, This is Anna, about an incredibly intelligent child runaway who is taken in and befriended by a young man.
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September 18, 2014 at 6:18 pm -
Marvellous!
Is there not some irony in that the taking of photographs and their reproduction having got ever easier, we have now reached a state where the only photograph one may safely take is a selfie.
Some thirty years ago in D.C. I had my camera, a 35 mm SLR, and was snapping whatever seemed of interest to me, when near Union Station three negro girls, in their school uniform and I would guess about fourteen years of age, observed that I had a camera, and so with no word spoken they promptly went into a huddle and I snapped. It is (even though I say it myself) a lovely photo.
Would I do it today? Would I even be seen on the street with a camera? My SLR to my sadness (the shutter having gone wonky) remains long unused).
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September 19, 2014 at 1:03 pm -
We were on a night walk round Liverpool a few years ago when a photographer happened to snap a monument just as my 10 year old son ran around the corner into shot. He caught up with us and showed us the pic, then asked if we’d mind if he used it for a book of photos of the city by night. We said yes, but I’ve never been able to find the book. Apparently it’s fine to use images of children with parents permission.
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September 20, 2014 at 1:32 am -
“where the only photograph one may safely take is a selfie.”
Only if you’re old enough, and that’s older than the age of consent. Otherwise it’s “a serious offence”.
A young woman sent a selfie to her boyfriend, but the mere making of the image was illegal, because she was under 18.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/10983055/Teenage-girl-given-police-caution-for-sexting-explicit-selfie-to-boyfriend.htmlMore content for the Sex Offenders Register, which I think by now must be chock-full of effectively useless entries,
obscuring the really dangerous ones.
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September 19, 2014 at 5:26 pm -
You will all doubtless recall the joke in the movie Crocodile Dundee about the man who (improbably) was going to take a snap of some aborigines but had forgotten to remove the lens cap. On being told not to snap he assumed that the warning had something to do with the taking their souls. Is not the more or less total but otherwise de facto ban on photographing children merely a reincarnation of the ban on stealing souls (albeit dressed up in pseudo-scientific clothes).
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September 19, 2014 at 10:17 pm -
Sometime in the late 50s I was a wide-eyed tourist teen in London. A man who looked not unlike your photographer above suddenly sprung up and snapped me, I think in the Mall. When I protested he said he had already done it, and it would cost a few bob to post it. I reluctantly paid up, he then said he better take a second shot “to be sure”.
I did get my pics – 2 of the 2nd one, as he had never taken the first one at all !
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