What if the Wish Tower could tell us about the things it has seen over its 220 year history?
Content warning: This blog post has references to historical deaths which some readers may find upsetting.
Introduction
Welcome to the third article in my series of blogs about the Wish Tower, its history and its people. In this article, we are going to imagine that the Tower can look back on its long history and tell us about some of the things it has witnessed. This is not the first time that the Tower has been given a voice: back in 1955, when the Tower was threatened with demolition, someone wrote a poem supposedly written by the Tower itself in its defence. With that as my inspiration, I imagine that we hear from the Tower again. All of the events described are real, as documented in the press of the time and other sources.
My first views
I am old now, around 220 years. I have seen much going on both within my walls and in the area around me. Here I share just some of the events that I recall. When I was built – forgive me I forget the date, but they say it was in around 1806 – I was surrounded by little other than a dry moat. No paths or promenades had been laid, and I sat alone on the slope at the Wash, on the soft wet ground of a mound next to a stream that flowed into the sea.
I knew of other towers like me along the coast towards Pevensey and beyond, and of the Redoubt Fortress being built to house supplies. I heard this from the two dozen men stationed within my walls to defend against attack. I watched as they took in supplies (everything from gunpowder for the cannon to straw for their beds) and as they made preparations while they nervously awaited invasion.
Looking inland, I saw the comings and goings of the folk of South Bourne and Meads with the Old Town of East Bourn beyond, and a little way along the coast, I witnessed the people at Sea Houses watching with interest as the towers and the Redoubt became busy with industry. Barracks at South Bourne were enrolling 1,000 men to defend the coast. With a local population of about 2,000 this was a mighty undertaking.
Smugglers and shipwrecks
The invasion never came. Instead, I was put to use as a defence against the smugglers who were great in number and very active. The coastguard and sometimes his entire family would use me as their home alongside their residence at the nearby Redoubt. 1833 was a memorable year. One of the local boatmen, a George Pett, died within my walls having been shot. He was brought to be laid down still alive and groaned when water was splashed upon his face, but by the time the surgeon arrived, he appeared quite dead from a musket ball wound to his brain.
Just the next month came happier news, when the 340 ton ship Isabella was rescued during a severe gale. Isabella had been run ashore whilst carrying a cargo of bricks, lime, wheat, porter, spirits and other goods bound for Madeira and Demerara. The lifeboat crew, risking their own lives, succeeded in saving all on board. This was the very first rescue performed by the Eastbourne lifeboat, under Coxswain Edward Allchorn.
Local fishermen took advantage and became involved in the smuggling trade, calling themselves unusual nicknames such as Alligator, Catseye and Killcraft. Items would be hidden after being brought ashore. A favourite spot was in bullrushes and undergrowth just to the east of me. The goods smuggled were such commodities as brandy, tobacco, tea, wine and fine silk.
Many more smugglers and many more shipwrecks would be seen in these waters over the years, keeping the Coastguards busy. In the year of 1841, two coastguards lived here, Thomas Goldhouse who was 50, and Alexander Carr, a Scot, who was 55. Alexander had with him his family Margaret aged also 55 and Ann, who was 20 then.
Demolitions and gunnery experiments
I have been faced with the threat of demolition several times but am a lucky survivor. Other towers did not fare so well. I was rather distressed in 1860 as a tower quite close to me was deliberately destroyed. This they called Tower 71. It was selected to test guns by Sir W. Armstrong, and the proceedings were witnessed by the Duke of Cambridge and a group of officers. A selection of different guns was used and between them, they succeeded in obliterating the tower. One unfortunate soul was killed by an unexploded shell when excavating the site afterwards.
The following year, my own 68 pounder gun was fired in a practice event, and was turned to aim both out to sea, firing at a platform about a mile out, and inland towards Holywell. However, the pivot snapped on the 24th round. Thankfully, no-one was injured on this occasion. These gunnery experiments continued well into the next decade. All this while I was home still to the coastguard.
Seafront development and a change of resident
By the 1880s, the view from my rooftop had changed most dramatically. In just 30 years, the seafront was transformed into a fashionable resort with a long parade of hotels, attracting more new residents and visitors than I could possibly have imagined. In the 1860s, the promenade from Sea Houses to my slopes was completed followed by construction of the Western Promenades to Holywell, which began in 1874. All of a sudden, day trippers and holiday makers were everywhere, promenading about in their Sunday best, looking at the plants and flowers, dipping into the sea by way of the rows of bathing machines placed on the shores beneath me, and gaining respite from the sun under shelters placed along the promenade.
The bathing machines were horse drawn and to begin with, the men and women were kept separate, with the bathing boxes labelled “Male” and “Female”. These bathing huts were made static after the First World War. The hill I stand on was laid out as a public pleasure ground and folks would walk past me as they wandered all the way from Holywell on one side of me to the new pier (built 1872) on the other. The Eastbourne Lifeboat House was built next door in 1898 and I am glad to say it too has survived, although it is now a museum as the lifeboats have moved elsewhere. Just inland, the Devonshire Park area developed, first as a cricket ground, then as entertainment venues.
The Hollobon family moved in during this decade and set up a lovely little museum which became a success due to the diligence of Mr Harry Hollobon, who for 40 years collected stones from the beach and shaped and polished them, adding them to his collection of curios. The Hollobons would continue to live here until the 1920s and to run their museum until until the 1930s.
The Salvation Army and the mob
It wasn’t all sunshine and flowers. For two years, right under my nose, violence and injury prevailed most Sundays, all because a group wanted to parade and play their music. The Salvation Army arrived here in 1890. The Council and Mayor had banned them from performing, even securing an Act of Parliament to this effect. The slipway on my slope leading down to the beach became a regular meeting place for the Salvationists. However, when they met near to me in order to begin their processions, they were greeted by an angry mob time and time again.
On occasion, thousands would assemble. Terrific struggles were seen on numerous occasions during which many Salvationists were injured, some seriously. A few even went to prison for daring to play their instruments. Some Sundays, the crowds were extra violent, trying to push the Salvationists off my slopes and into the sea. The police were there in force most Sundays, but the crowds outnumbered them and they had great difficulty controlling the hostile attitude. Eventually, the Salvation Army succeeded in having the law overturned and in time, even the Mayor would come out to support them.
Life and death
In my life I have seen generations come and go. People have been born and died inside my rooms. One birth was of John Boyce Roberts, born 1837 to the coastguard Henry and his wife Mary, the youngest of four children. Soon after, they moved to another address in the town. In 1857, Artilleryman George Smith became my inhabitant and with his wife Mary Ann and growing family, lived sometimes with me and other times at the nearby larger Redoubt Fort. Two of their eleven children were born here, the other nine starting life at the Redoubt. Deaths include the aforementioned George Pett, brought here to rest mortally wounded, and Harry Hollobon. Harry’s daughter-in-law Mary also met her end here.
Outside, the sea regularly has regularly taken lives over the years, including holidaymakers, day trippers and people who lived locally. 1884 saw one such disaster when a young man of 19, holidaying here with friends, drowned after entering the sea from the bathing machines nearby. He succumbed despite a swimmer and a boat trying to reach him once the alarm had been raised that he was struggling. Then, in 1898, four young German men who all worked at the Grand Hotel came down for a swim. Two of them, aged 17 and 20, were unable to swim and went under; their bodies were later recovered from the waters. A poor woman repeatedly attempted to take her own life one day in 1888 by jumping into the water, proclaiming that she was cursed and damned.
Another frightful incident occurred in 1880, when a servant girl lost control of the perambulator she was pushing, causing it to fall onto the rocks directly below where I stand. Inside the pram were two infants. One child, just two years old, did not survive. More recently in 1984, the body was found washed up near me of a young man who killed himself by jumping off Beachy Head, depressed after his brother had also committed suicide.
Wars – real and sham
Twice in my history I have been occupied by the military to defend the coast against an invasion that never came. First of course was the threat from Napoleon which was the very reason I was built along with other towers along the coast. By 1873, The War Office had decommissioned me and my cannon was removed. Over a hundred years later in World War Two I was occupied again and once more fitted with a gun when invasion seemed likely. Having seen the area become a bustling resort, it changed very dramatically – barbed wire was everywhere and there was generally no access to the seafront.
I did witness fighting, and not just that already described with the Salvationists. This was sham fighting and it happened more than once. A mock battle took place in 1887 when they pretended I was occupied by “red-turbaned Arabs”. Rockets were fired by the Arabs from my roof towards the supposed English troops below, who were led by “Commodore Bumblebee” and return fire took place. Eventually the English prevailed and the flag of Islam was removed from my flag post. Another example of this strange behaviour occurred in 1891 when 1,000 men dressed up to represent British soldiers and “Afghans” who had taken up position inside my walls. An evening “battle” was followed by a parade along the seafront to celebrate the English victory.
A place to gather
Some of the gatherings around me were about celebration and entertainment. The local Girl Guides were an example. In May 1939 they gathered to hear the Bishop lead a service in his red robes of office. There, he spoke of the goodness of the Guides movement, and contrasted this with the selfish, the war mongers and the profiteers, whom he wished would die painlessly in their beds, thus saving a lot of trouble. In October 1939 over 500 girl guides assembled on my slopes again for a photo after their rally and service.
When the Wish Tower café opened in 1961, this attracted locals and visitors alike who could sit in my moat and enjoy their summer refreshments. Sadly, part of my moat wall was demolished in the process of building the café, but at least I was spared.
In the 1970s and 1980s my slopes were used for much merriment, including a barn dance and the Radio 1 Roadshow. Over 10,000 gathered in 1978 for Ed “Stewpot” Stewart’s roadshow.
When the café closed, the site remained empty for a while but is now occupied again, and customers can once more sit outside to take in the view, which now includes the beautiful Peace Garden that surrounds me.
Inside, where it is cool, three different museums have invited people in, including the Hollobons’ geology museum already mentioned, followed by an “Invasion and Coastal Defence” museum in the 1970s and 80s, and a puppet museum in the 1990s. Now the Wish Tower Friends welcome visitors in to learn about my history and to wonder at the spectacular views from the rooftop. If the flag is flying I am open, and would encourage you to come in and have a look.
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