Chapter 11 – The End

By I935 the district had degenerated into what was described as one of the worst slums in London. A year before the Spectator had contained an article which stated that the area was “A sordid little slum where houses were typical of the old villages absorbed a century or so previously into the encroaching city. It contained small cottages with often two or even three families in each, which were about one hundred and twenty years old. The whole area was liable to extensive flooding at any time”

So it was, with much sadness, in 1935 that the community that had become so close knit was to be torn apart. The council’s plans to demolish the homes in Bow Creek and re- house the tenants throughout the borough came into being. It was like a family being torn asunder. A block of flats had been built in Oban Street, Poplar which the people could have or else they could move to houses in Dagenham.

Despite the conditions there were many residents who wanted to be left alone. They had reared healthy families and they considered there was still plenty of “fresh air” available. It was one of the few places in East London where fisherman were still to be found. So some people not only lost their home but with it their livelihood. Not wanting to move too far away from the East end we moved to 42, Oban House and the special childhood that I had been so lucky to enjoy came to an end. Then I could only look across the creek to my old home and birthplace.

My Mum (Louisa Jesse Taylor / Marks)

Throughout my childhood and despite all the hardships my mother suffered, I never once heard her complain. For the most part of her life Mum had struggled to raise the family single handed. Despite being twice married, with husbands away at sea most of the time, the day to day task of keeping the family together rested on her shoulders. She was always fair, loving all children equally, never showing favours. If a child needed punishment she was not afraid to give them a wallop. Although not one to demonstrate her affection, we rarely got hugs, she handed out praise and love in equal measures. Though cheeky and spirited we children knew when and how to behave properly and never let our Mum down. To my brothers, sisters and I our Mum was one in a million. Mum died peacefully in 1960 aged 66 years. She had been seriously ill the year before and had not been expected to pull through, but the doctors had not come up against the iron will of Lou Jesse Marks. My step – Dad was still alive and Mum knew he needed her. That year in October he died in his sleep. The following March Mum had another attack but this time accepted her invitation to join her husbands and baby Bertha in heaven. I am 71 this year and despite losing my beloved husband when I was 53, live happily surrounded by my own loving family.

Lucy passed away on February 13th  2007