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A prison to call home

Britain's famed Beefeaters know all too well the gory history - and ghosts - associated with the Tower of London, after all, they live there.

By GEORGE QURAISHI
Published January 29, 2006

[Photo: George Quraishi]

From left, Fiona and Ann Thompson, daughters of Yeoman Warder Nick Thompson, cycle along Mint Street in the Casemates. All front doors of the apartments open onto the street, a narrow, circular road.

LONDON - Serious things have happened at the Tower of London, matters of life and death that warrant mention in history texts. For more than eight centuries, it was a place no commoner dared go. Except, of course, to watch the executions - the citywide affairs where crowds, sweaty and seething, jostled for a glimpse of an ax blade fulfilling a royal decree.

In 1536, Anne Boleyn was beheaded with a French sword, here on Tower Green. At the same spot 18 years later, Lady Jane Grey had her head lopped off with an ax. In 1605, Guy Fawkes was tortured for plotting to blow up Parliament. During World War II, a Nazi spy, captured parachuting into England, was shot.

And in 2002, on the Tower's grassy moat floor, 7-year-old Ann Thompson learned to ride her bicycle without training wheels.

Unlike her imprisoned predecessors, Ann, now 10, liked to call the Tower of London home. She lived there until recently with her 12-year-old sister, Fiona, and their parents. Her father, Nick, recently retired as a Yeoman Warder, those guards who have been known for centuries as Beefeaters.

In all, 41 families live inside the Tower of London. (Several non-Warders also reside there, including employees with the titles of Governor, Deputy Governor, Doctor, Chaplain, Chief Exhibitor of the Crown Jewels and the representative of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers.)

The Tower of London still stakes its image on grimness and gore (and jewels), all of them enticements to sightseers and history buffs, not a warning to traitors. The 38 Yeoman Warders are the keepers of the Tower of London, but they are not only its sentinels. They are also entertainers and historians.

Rising along the north bank of the Thames, the Tower is not a single building but various structures within angled stone walls almost as concentric as a Skee-Ball target.

The Yeoman Warders lead popular tours through the oldest community in what Londoners know is actually a whole metropolis of villages. And it's the Warders' families who give life to the grand attraction they call home.

Girded by the moat, the austere, sheer outer wall is inset with slender, vertically aligned windows. These look into the Yeoman Warders' living quarters, called the Casemates. These quarters curl around the Tower, except for the side that is flush with the River Thames.

All front doors of the Casemates apartments open onto Mint Street, a narrow, circular road that rims an even higher wall that protects the inner fortress, the part that tourists see.

It is here that the Crown Jewels are displayed, and here in the center stands the White Tower - the original component of the Tower of London that was ordered built by William the Conqueror in the 11th century.

But it is behind the scenes, on the periphery, that the families live. Access to the Casemates is restricted to residents and Tower staff, fostering a homey feel within what is both a royal palace and a fortress.

But on Mint Street, a small pink and white bicycle, with training wheels, stands outside No. 18. A Homer Simpson doll peeks out from behind the curtains of No. 25. A green ceramic garden snail squats outside the front door of John Keohane, a burly, bearded man who, in his capacity as Yeoman Gaoler (the archaic form of jailer), carried a ceremonial ax.

With the privacy afforded by the Casemates, families live out destinies separate from the history of the Tower. The children hunt for eggs at Easter, trick-or-treat at Halloween and carol at Christmas.

Even so, the balance between personal and public space is a delicate one.

"In some ways you could say it's the same" as when it was an active fortress, Thompson said. "You live in a museum, security keeps you in at night, you're dependent on the (contained) community."

Until their recent move out of the Casemates, the Thompsons' flat was filled with art from Mrs. Thompson's native Philippines, and several walls were painted mango yellow.

Still, because the Casemates are a government-protected historical remnant, there are restrictions on interior renovation. Residents pay a percentage of their salary in rent.

Some of their wives also work within the Tower. Others work in the city. Keohane's wife, for instance, is a driver of London's famous red buses.

"I told my wife, "I'm taking you to live in a royal palace'," recalls Yeoman Warder Phil Wilson. "She very quickly pointed out it was also a state prison."

Even with the prisoners long gone, life at the Tower of London is regimented and retains the feel of martial tradition. This suits the Warders, or perhaps it is the Warders who are suited to the lifestyle: Each is a long-serving officer chosen from Britain's military.

The military experience brings a discipline that assists in the security required to protect priceless national treasures such as the Crown Jewels, still kept within the Tower.

The Warders maintain ancient traditions, such as the Ceremony of the Keys, though they lack a discernable modern function. During this ceremony, thought to be at least 700 years old, the Chief of the Tower locks down the fortress every night, precisely at 9:53. (A small door within the gate admits people in the wee hours.)

To be sure, there's more securing the Tower than a slab of wood and a big skeleton key. But the Ceremony of the Keys persists because the beauty of the brief event and the staggering number of years it has been performed make it one of the world's unique rituals.

The scene is both eerie and peaceful: The Chief, heels clacking on the cobblestones, marches from the innermost walls through a narrow passage. Illuminated by the ancient lantern he holds swaying in one hand, he strides to the front gate, locks it and returns. He is met by a contingent of the Royal Army in modern dress, who take the keys and assume security for the Crown Jewels and other royal treasures.

After the seven-minute ceremony, the Warders in attendance and any guests often retire to the Yeoman Warder Club, built into the ramparts along the river. This room is low and outfitted with the usual pub accoutrements, including bowls of peanuts and drink coasters. There is a grandfather clock, and the walls are plastered with a jigsaw collection of Warder memorabilia: plaques, costumes, commemorative daggers and photographs.

Novelist Tom Clancy, who described the Ceremony of the Keys in Patriot Games, is the only current Honorary Yeoman Warder and is an occasional visitor to the Club.

The Warders and their wives operate the bar in a rotation. On hand is a supply of jackets and ties if needed for male visitors; like most of the Tower's rules, the night-time dress code here is strictly enforced.

The Club entertains about 40 people per night, and in a week they consume roughly 450 pints of beer and ale, four bottles of gin and 15 quarts of wine.

Beefeater brand gin, which is unaffiliated with the Tower of London, nonetheless sends a bottle to each Warder at Christmas, said Warder Simon Dodd. He added, "There was always a club. At one time it used to be a barrel of beer, down by the Warder's (rooming) halls."

The club may be a hub of social activity for the adults, but what of the Tower's underage residents? "Everyone gets in trouble by Yeoman Warders," advised Fiona Thompson.

Yeoman Clerk Rod Truelove, whose sons grew up inside the Tower, agreed. "It's a bit restrictive, with 40-odd surrogate fathers around. It's hard to get up to any mischief."

Nevertheless, his sons found a way. "Once they collected all the coins out of Traitors Gate (a pool of water fed by the Thames where prisoners once were brought into the Tower). One of the other Warders caught them and made them put the money back."

Ken McGrath, another Warder with kids, says, "At bedtime, it's 18 acres of land, and these children know every nook and cranny. So if they don't want to come home, it's hide and seek."

The children have petitioned the former chief for a playroom in a vacant section of the Casemates. But there has been little progress due to concern about the need for adult supervision.

Meanwhile, there is enough vacant land for outdoor sports. The largest area of open space at the Tower of London is the grassy moat that surrounds it. Wide enough for a soccer game, the moat also contains a fenced tennis court and a playground, and is a popular dog-walk.

Warders are also aware that even in this village within a city, two families of foxes sneak into the moat at night.

But the Tower's ravens are far better known. They have their own Warder, the Raven Master, who tends to them. Currently there are eight birds, and the Raven Master treats them well: Folklore links their presence at the Tower to the survival of the crown.

The birds manage to avoid the swagger of self-importance to which some Warders are prone. Their names recall Beowulf, or at least The Lord of the Rings: Gwyllum, Gundulf and Branwen. Yet the ravens' routine mostly involves hopping about, pecking at the earth in a fenced-in lawn by the White Tower. Their wings are clipped - that business about staying on site - but they seem content and they're fed a ration of raw meat every day, and sometimes a whole rabbit.

Perhaps the most famous residents of the Tower of London are the ghosts. Accounts of apparitions dating from the 1200s are common and vary from routine haunts to reportedly dangerous encounters. Dogs are said to refuse to enter the Salt Tower, which, according to McGrath, "is haunted - yeah, one of the most."

Most Yeoman Warders take the ghosts seriously. Asked if he had seen a ghost, McGrath said: "Seen one, no. My only claim is one morning I was turning on the lights in the Bloody Tower, and I felt one walk past. I said, "Good morning'."

It is, after all, what one says to a neighbor.

- Tampa resident George Quraishi is currently teaching English in Korea.

GETTING THERE: British Airways flies direct from Tampa International Airport to London; several other carriers have connecting service.

GETTING IN: The Tower of London is open every day except Dec. 24-26 and Jan. 1. From November until the end of February, hours are 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday and Monday. It will stay open an hour later beginning in March.

Last admission is one hour before closing, but an hour is hardly enough time to get your money's worth; plan on a visit of several hours.

Tickets are 14.50 pounds (about $25.50) for adults when purchased at the gate; you can save a pound (about $1.75) by purchasing the ticket by telephone or on the Internet. There are special prices for children 15 and younger, students, senior citizens and families. Children 4 and younger are admitted free.

Historic Royal Palaces, which runs the Tower of London, Hampton Court Palace and Kensington Palace, offers special prices to a combination of its sites. For more information go to www.hrp.org.uk or, from the United States, call the Tower's information line at 011-44-870-756-6060.

To reach the Tower by Underground (the Tube), take the Circle or District line to the Tower Hill station.

Yeoman Warders conduct lively guided tours that leave every half hour from the Tower's entrance gate. Various areas inside the Tower can be visited on your own.

THE KEYS: Tickets to the Ceremony of the Keys are free and can be obtained by writing to the address below. You must include an International Reply Coupon (available from your post office) and state the number of tickets desired as well as dates you prefer. You need to give more than one date in case the nights' tickets are gone. Write to Ceremony of the Keys office, HM Tower of London, London EC3N 4AB, UK.

[Last modified January 27, 2006, 09:58:02]