When Croydon was the centre of the universe
It's 100 years since Imperial Airways took off from Croydon
Welcome to your first ever instalment of Londonist: Croydon Edit! Piloted by Londonist editor and committed Croydonian Will Noble, it's about all things in the borough of Croydon including features on Croydon's crazily rich history, interviews with the people who make Croydon what it is, the latest on Croydon openings, exhibitions, gigs and events, and lots more.
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For my money, one of the most absorbing museums in London (and there are a LOT of contenders) is Croydon Airport. I first visited in 2016, when I was shown around by Ian Walker, a commercial pilot, and then the chairman of the Croydon Airport Trust. I've since been back a couple more times. Every trip is different, the volunteers spinning stories about derring-do aviatrixes, gold bullion heists and tragic accidents.
During the 1920s and 30s, Croydon became the centre of the universe thanks to this airport. Mercifully—and in spite of Croydon’s reputation of self-harm—much of the building survives today.
I don't imagine this will be the last piece I write about Croydon Airport but this time round I'm going to hone in on Imperial Airways, not least because the airline—which operated from Croydon—was founded one century ago, in 1924. So let’s envelope ourselves in a glimmering world of continental travel via sky-high cocktails, Agatha Christie… and the occasional moment that’ll bring you to earth with a bump.
Imperial Airways takes off
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Though Croydon Aerodrome/Airport can claim many world firsts (first air traffic tower, first airport shops, first airport hotel, first in-flight movie), British aviation in the 1920s was lagging behind its competitors. If you'd have squinted through your binoculars from the airport’s public viewing platform in 1923, you'd have seen a flurry of government-subsidised airlines from Germany (Luft Hansa), France (Air Union) and the Netherlands (KLM) shuttle in and out.
But Britain was still operating a hodgepodge of private airlines, such as Daimler Airway and Instone Air Line (the latter was the first airline to set the trend of nautical blue uniforms, which continues on many airlines today). For years there was back-and-forth about creating a state-subsidised British airline which could compete with its international rivals.
“Civil aviation must fly by itself,” Winston Churchill had said, “The Government cannot possibly hold it up in the air.” It became increasingly apparent, though, that air travel was not some fad, and that the Brits were missing out. Finally, on 31 March 1924, Imperial Airways was registered1, thanks to a merger of various private companies, including Daimler and Instone . But there was a snag: offended by the salaries on offer, the pilots refused to fly. It wasn't until this was smoothed out that the first Imperial Airways flight departed from Croydon to Paris Le Bourget, on 26 April 1924.
The following month, the new airline was running ads in the papers:
Imperial Airways announce that a complete service of British Aeroplanes is now running daily between London (Croydon) and Paris, Ostend, Brussels, Cologne, Amsterdam, Hanover, Berlin and the Channel Islands.
The country finally had a national airline. And it was going places…
The Imperial routes
When I said Croydon Airport was at the core of the universe, I wasn't joking. In the mid 1920s, Britain was still presiding over a global empire, and now Imperial Airways—a name, which, let's face it, wouldn't be green-lit by most focus groups nowadays—offered passage to all corners of the globe. On a Croydon tram in 2024, you can go as far as Wimbledon or Beckenham, but 100 years ago you could travel from Croydon to Karachi, Cairo, Singapore, Brisbane, Hong Kong... the list goes on and on. These long-haul flights didn't happen in one fell swoop, of course; planes had to stop for regular refuelling, and passengers (who in the inchoate days, sat in wicker chairs) would’ve been grateful to get out and stretch their legs. The Quantas ‘Kangaroo Route’ stopped at Paris, Athens, Alexandria, Gaza, Baghdad, Basra, Kuwait, Bahrain, Sharjah, Gwadar, Karachi, Jodhpur, Delhi, Cawnpore, Allahabad, Calcutta, Akyab, Rangoon, Bangkok, Alor Star, Singapore, Batavia, Sourabaya, Rambang, Koepang, Darwin, Longreach and Charleville. (Not to mention a train from Paris to Brindisi.)
So comprehensive was the docket of Imperial Airways’ destinations, Harry Beck —famous for his 'circuit diagram' London Underground map — created a version for Imperial Airways, with tube stops substituted for far-flung destinations. The distance in miles from Croydon was also marked out. This was more of a marketing stunt than something passengers would stand in the ticket hall and plot out their journeys with. But it captured just how wide the airline’s reach was. (You can see a version of the map displayed by the staircase at the Airport museum—I wrote an article about it on Londonist.)
What was it like to fly with Imperial Airways?
Pros:
It took about 10 minutes between reaching the airport and boarding the plane.
An early handbook, Points for the Passenger, informed flyers that there was no need to wear helmets, goggles or flying suits. Phew.
Flying low meant you had great views for much of the flight. If the cabin felt stuffy, you could open the window without being sucked out a la Goldfinger.
Cons:
You had to be weighed before you could get on the plane. Oh the humanity.
You needed to be disgustingly rich. A return flight from Croydon to Paris in 1924 cost £12—about £800 in today's money.
No Wetherspoons for a cheeky pre-flight Guinness.
An outside chance you’d crash (see later on).
I already mentioned those wicker chairs…
In 1927, Imperial launched its ‘Silver Wing’ service, which invited you to check in at Victoria (the towering art deco building is still there on Buckingham Palace Road—check it out), be coached down to Croydon, and enjoy an on board buffet on the plane over to Paris, as served by white-jacketed stewards. (The French established a ‘Golden Ray’ service soon after, les copycats.)
In-flight refreshments, by the way, were very good. Stewards went out to Surrey Street market to personally buy the produce. There were also fresh pastries plucked from the boulangeries of Paris. Proper cocktails served up in real glasses included the 'Silver Wing' cocktail, the recipe of which has been lost to time (I’ve asked the airport volunteers and everything.)2 Then again, it wasn't always prudent for nervous flyers to take the edge off with a few tipples: not all of the first Imperial Airways services had toilets.
1930 saw the introduction of Imperial’s fleet of Handley Page H.P.42s—majestic bi-planes which became an icon of this golden age of travel. Freeman Wills Crofts' 1934 murder mystery The 12.30 from Croydon chronicles the thrill of being on one of these beasts, from the viewpoint of a young girl: “There was a feeling as if an enormous hand had grasped the machine and was pulling it forward," writes Crofts as the Handley Page HP-42 takes off—and soon after, delivers the back-handed compliment: "Two or three hundred yards below them Croydon seemed a far prettier place than it had looked on the way from Town.”
The Imperial experience (for locals)
While well-to-do citizens were now happily galavanting across the globe, groups of Croydon NIMBYs were assembling to gripe:
I cannot see the slightest reason why a commercial company subsidised with public money should be allowed to spoil the whole district and make sleep impossible for hundreds of people.
Reading this now, it could easily be penned by a contemporary resident of Hounslow. But not all the locals were so downbeat. Imagine being a young person captivated by this newfangled aviation lark; Croydon Airport must’ve been like having some magical open-air theatre on your doorstep. Both the airport and the adjoining hotel featured viewing platforms, which were hugely popular with locals and day trippers. Croydonian Donald Gill later remembered childhood days in the 1930s watching Handley Pages float down like giant moths:
A man in a peaked cap, white jersey and seaboots used to come out on the balcony and peer at the sky through his binoculars until he could wave the incoming aeroplanes in... It always used to remind me of the boatman at Wandle Park lake shouting "Come in, No 16".
Others simply liked to watch the passengers stroll across the runway, and marvel (or bitch at) their fashion sense.
Accidents
Reading about the early days of Croydon and Imperial, you often come across claims along the lines of “it was all very safe.” I’m not so sure.
In the first six years of Imperial Airways operations, 32 people died in seven accidents. Even by the end of its first year, there had been a major crash: on Christmas Eve 1924 a passenger plane nosedived into the ground at Purley shortly after taking off from Croydon, killing all eight people on board. This led to the country’s first air crash investigation, and preempted the thought that perhaps Croydon was not the best place to have an airport after all.
But every cloud has a silver lining: because planes in those days flew at a lower altitude—and far more slowly than the commercial jets we're familiar with today—crashes were a lot more survivable. As this excerpt from Imperial Airways and the First British Airlines 1919-40 attests:
…a propellor disintegrated, fragments striking the propellor above it, causing severe vibration and loss of power…. [the pilot] tried to avoid houses in an attempt to land in a field. In so doing he collided with a telephone pole and a tree stump. Everyone walked unhurt from the aircraft, astonished to observe how severely damaged it was.
In the world of fiction, there were other dangers to worry about. In 1935, Agatha Christie published Death in the Clouds, in which a woman is found murdered on a flight as it comes into land at Croydon. (Despite the champers and cocktails on offer, the Belgian sleuth Poirot only has a soda water and crackers while aboard—mon dieu!). Anyway, it's a cracking holiday read.
What became of Imperial Airways?
Sadly, the golden age of air travel was fleeting—cut short by the outbreak of the second world war. Croydon Airport was requisitioned by the RAF. The H.P.42s were out, Hurricanes were in. It was the beginning of the end for the airport, although it would struggle on until 1959. Imperial Airways, though, was done for straight off the bat: it was absorbed into the British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC) in 1939—which itself would later be merged with British European Airways (BEA) to become British Airways. The glamour of Silver Wing flights was a thing of the past. But the public had experienced their first taste of flying, and they liked it. With the package holiday boom just around the corner, continental travel was soon to become available the masses. Croydon’s role in this can’t be overestimated.
Interested in diving even deeper into Croydon’s aviation history? A visit to Croydon Airport is a must. Its open days—held on the first Sunday of the month— are certainly no secret anymore: they often sell out. I'd also point you in the direction of the Top Landing Gear episode in which Ian Walker gives a captivating tour of the airport and its heritage.
And I've thumbed through a number of books to help me write this, but if you’re interested in reading more, I'd suggest seeking out Croydon Airport: The Great Days and Imperial Airways and the First British Airlines 1919-40.
It was initially going to be called the British Aircraft Transport Service, until someone pointed out that spelled BATS.
In lieu of this, I’d suggest trying the Speedbird cocktail at the Savoy; it was actually inspired by Concorde’s inaugural flight but the ‘Speedbird’ was Imperial Airway’s logo, and I like to think the Silver Wing had a similarly dynamic kick to it.
On my list of places to visit - there are loys of lovely outdoor spaces accessible by public transport like Happy Valley, so let's hear it for sahf Lahndan (even if it is really Surrey)