A New Golden Age for the Red Phone Box
Rumours of its demise have been greatly exaggerated.
Welcome to Londonist: Time Machine’s Friday edition for paying subscribers, with a generous teaser for everyone else.
The red phone box is an icon of London. But utility has turned to futility since we all gained mobile phones. Kiosks have been cut off, disconnected, forgotten. Nobody uses them any more. One commentator sees only “inescapable melancholy” in their crimson hunch, “like sad clowns they are weeping inside”.
That’s a perfectly valid and poetic way to look at it. I think we can escape the melancholy, though. Their lines might have been severed, but these historic booths are not redundant. Many have found new roles, from serving tea to saving lives. Far from moribund, the phone box may be entering a new golden age.
Read about the red-box redux in the main section. but first, the History Radar…
History Radar
Upcoming events of interest to fans of London history.
🌸 CURATOR TOUR: On 22 January, join a curator for a free tour of current exhibition William Morris & Art from the Islamic World. The show, at Walthamstow's William Morris Gallery, explores the influence of art from the Islamic world on the work of 19th-century designer William Morris, with Islamic textiles, ceramics, metalwork and manuscripts on display.
🏠 10 RILLINGTON PLACE: Also on 22 January, bestselling author Kate Summerscale discusses her latest true crime investigation, about the case of 10 Rillington Place in Notting Hill, where multiple bodies were discovered in 1953. Summerscale chats to crime author Blessin Adams in the online talk hosted by the National Archives.
☀️ HELIOS: The Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich’s historic and beautiful Painted Hall will be illuminated from 25 January by a 1:200 million scale sculpture of the Sun. Helios is a work by artist Luke Jerram -- who has previously installed his Moon and Mars sculptures in various buildings around London. It’ll be on display until 25 March and will add an extra dimension to this mesmeric building.
🌹 WAR OF THE ROSES: Settle in at Southwark Cathedral on 25 January for a day of short talks about the powerful women of the Wars of the Roses. Historians and authors discuss the stories of women from the period including Tudor matriarch Marguerite of Anjou, and Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII, and how their lives were affected by the conflict.
🚇 WASSAIL: Morris dancers The Belles of London City are the focus of the Brunel Museum's wassailling event on 25 January, performing both on the museum's piazza and in the tunnel shaft. It's not often you get to watch Morris dancing taking place underground, and if you like what you see, there's a chance to learn a few of the steps yourself.
⚔️ CIVIL WAR REENACTMENT: Head down to Horse Guards Parade on the morning of 26 January and you might end up feeling like you've travelled back in time, as scores of volunteers in royalist costumes with mounted troops and weapons reenact the final journey of King Charles I on his way to death by execution at Banqueting House. The annual event by The King's Army, a royalist branch of the English Civil War Society, is free to watch.
A New Golden Age for the Red Phone Box
I once met a man who collected tart cards. Through 20 years and more, he scoured the phone boxes of Euston and King’s Cross, seeking fresh examples. The smutty hoard filled 17 cardboard boxes. It is now held at the Wellcome Library, where it forms as an important sociological record of the sex trade over many years.
Beyond that, the collection reminds us that phone boxes are so much more than nodes of telecommunication. They play other roles in society; practical, cultural and subcultural. Early phone boxes contained mirrors. You could check your makeup or adjust your tie. Some early models dispensed postage stamps. The better-maintained kiosks provided phone books in which you could look up a street address. Later boxes featured on album covers (Ziggy) and appeared in cult movies (Withnail). The phone box was a changing room for superheroes and an elevator for wizards.
People often mourn the passing of these distinguished structures. In an age of near-universal access to mobile phones, the old kiosks are robbed of their chief purpose. But we should remember that it was never all about the phone line. Red phone boxes are attractive, robust and versatile objects that can be turned to other trades. And that is exactly what is happening around London and the wider UK.
Rather than weep for the past, I would rather ring in the changes. London’s phone boxes have been recalled to life as coffee shops, art works and community spaces. I’d like to share some favourite examples from around London, but first let’s redial the history…
Dawn of the kiosk
The first standard public phone box appeared closer in time to the Georgian era than to our own. May 1921 saw the introduction of the Kiosk-1 or K1 to a handful of locations across Britain. Very few survive. Here, for no good reason whatsoever, is a photo of me pretending to use a K1 at the excellent National Tramway Museum in Derbyshire.
The K1 proved unpopular with both the public and local councils. So, in 1924 the General Post Office launched a competition to design a new national phone box. The winning design was unveiled in 1925, exactly 100 years ago at the time of writing. And the winner? Sir Giles Gilbert Scott. This exceptional architect had already made his name with Liverpool Cathedral. He would go on to give us Battersea Power Station, Bankside Power Station (now Tate Modern), Waterloo Bridge and a ton of other stuff. But the K2 phone box is surely his most beloved design1.
Gilbert Scott would later tweak his design to produce the smaller, lighter K6 kiosk. These arrived in 1935 as part of the Silver Jubilee celebrations for George V, hence the embossed crowns that top this model.
The K2 and K6 kiosks are a true icons of London. Many of them have been ‘listed’ by Historic England, granting them protection for future generations. Tourists now queue to take a selfie inside the kiosks in Parliament Square. They are as cherished today as they’ve ever been. And many are finding unusual new roles…
Phone boxes as artwork
This is Out Of Order, a sculptural installation from artist David Mach in Kingston town centre. The toppling domino effect makes a grinagog out of all who see it. It’s one of London’s truly great modern sculptures. But it was also a herald of things to come. Mach’s 12 fallen boxes were placed here as early as 1989, a time when phone boxes were still in regular use. The only people with mobiles at this point were guffawing City boys with brick-phones. The tumbling kiosks presage a wider downfall in the years to come.
Since Mach’s work, redundant phone boxes have become a staple of the artist’s studio. Below are some further examples I’ve spotted around London:
Phone boxes as cafes
You’d think a phone box would be too small to serve as a street-food stall. But, like Doctor Who’s TARDIS, these boxes also seem to be bigger on the inside. This adorable example — Tayya Homemade Ice Cream — could be found on the north-east corner of Russell Square before the pandemic. Sadly, it’s now gone, but other vendors can be found around town, using the sturdy K6 frame to store ingredients and shelter from the weather.
Phone boxes put to community use
This. THIS is my favourite afterlife of any phone kiosk. An old K2 in Lewisham has regenerated into a bookswap. Local residents leave unwanted books for others to pick up, all free of charge. Help yourself. Whenever you like. The box is well maintained, and has even sparked its own book club. It can be found on the corner of Lewisham Way and Tyrwhitt Road. This is not the only bookswap in London — indeed, I maintain a map, with hundreds of locations — but it’s surely the most enticing.
Here are a few more community-minded phone boxes: