A ‘Shanty Town’ in Sunny South
By Ken Rimell

Mention railway towns and you automatically think of Crewe, Doncaster or Swindon. However, the Sussex beach resort of Pagham is the definitive example if the term is to be taken in a literal sense, as Ken Rimell explains…… Until 1900 Pagham in West Sussex consisted of a harbour on the English Channel and a coastguard hut. Half a mile inland lies the village of Nyetimber with a few scattered cottages, mostly lived in by farmworkers, and a windmill. Three miles further east is Bognor Regis, the royal Regis being the accolade given by King George V while convalescing there (later he was heard to comment "bugger Bognor" and that term sticks to this day).

With royal patronage, the resort became popular to the point of overcrowding. Bognor was also a base for many National Boys' Clubs which would holiday there each year and camp in local fields. One camp leader, deciding that Bognor was too busy, walked with his group of boys along the shingly beach to Pagham where they pitched their tents. Bognor had a railway station, and further inland was Chichester, both being served by the LBSCR. With no proper roads leading to it, Pagham was by contrast without public transport and quite remote. But word spread and Pagham beach became an ideal spot for the clubs' summer vacations. By 1910 a small gypsy caravan could be seen on the edge of the harbour. Inside was a London seamstress who travelled to Pagham each weekend, and would often make ball gowns for the rich. How she reached Pagham remains a mystery and she kept to herself. And by 1915 one or two holiday bungalows also started to spring up despite Pagham's isolation. By now World War One was in full swing, and although the boys' clubs still continued to visit Pagham, many of those once-boisterous members joined the army to become men overnight in the battlefields of the Somme or Ypres. Many never came home again and lay buried in that forgotten corner of some foreign field which is forever England. The Pagham coastguard hut increased both in size and in staff, with three fully-armed coastguards all prepared to repel the Kaiser's army should it ever try to land. From very early Victorian times Pagham and its harbour had been noted for its rare bird population, and so birdwatchers would make their pilgrimages there, also pitching tents each year. The unlikely mix of the boys' clubs and birdwatchers surprisingly seemed to harmonise and slowly Pagham and its harbour became a noted holiday spot.

After the war was over, with the nation coming to terms with rebuilding its economy, only those with money could afford to go on holiday. Meanwhile, the LBSCR had been, in the main, using old coaching stock, and since nearly all of its vehicles had been acquired from other companies, many were by now well past retirement. Around 1918 a policy decision by the LBSCR to replace much of its existing rolling stock saw sidings at Bognor Regis, Chichester, and Brighton, filled with redundant wooden-bodied Victorian carriages awaiting their fate. While parked in their sidings one or two f them became home to temporary residents during the summer. At first they were used by railway employees, but once the idea had gelled, the notion of their use as static accommodation was extended to include the general public as well. And with pressure on the LBSCR to use the siding space for more profitable means it as decided to either sell or break up these carriages. Many of them duly found their way to the lonely camping haven of Pagham. Opinions differ on how those which ended up at the small resort were acquired, but with the passing of many generations since, information has become sketchy. Some think their particular carriage was bought at auction, others by private tender. From the spring of 1919 a small village slowly started to spring up on the beach using the old carriages, a Mr. John Apps holding the title of being the first to have his vehicle body based there. While most of the carriages came from Bognor Regis station, a document states that at least ten were brought from Chichester. As more carriages arrived, many began to be used all year round, as a seaside alternative to living in inner city slums or other less desirable areas. Public transport improved, and by 1920 Tommy Tate's Red Rover bus was a regular sight in the village. Those in a hurry could use the Ford Model T taxi owned by the landlord of Nyetimber's pub, The Bear.

All the carriages were brought to Pagham by horse and drogue timber wagons drawn by Ted Broadbridge and, depending on size, a team of two, four or six horses, all were minus wheels and bogie sets. On arrival they were set down on a prepared site by jacking, while more difficult locations were tackled by rolling on logs. When in position, further jacking took place and the carriage would then ‘sit’ on either blocks or railway sleeper supports. Even to this day the carriages, many sideways to each other, are set perfectly. The arrival of any carriage would herald a complete village turnout to watch or help! Many years ago when on a visit to one of the old carriages, its then elderly owner invited me in and proudly showed me a rather faded picture of Ted Broadbridge's drogue and a team of four horses moving a carriage. Sadly my recent quest to relocate that picture was not successful. By the middle of the 1930s there were almost 250 properties on the beach and mostly, not all, had begun life as railway carriages!

With the arrival of World War Two, most buildings along the sea front were taken over by the army. Some areas of the beach were mined and units of British and Canadian troops with anti-aircraft guns took over firstline defence, many of the concrete bases for the guns still visible to this day. Many of the permanent residents of the beach resort were moved out. By late 1943 the army population had increased yet again at Pagham, extra huts were built, and further homes taken over. Specialist army and navy engineers had arrived and top secret work carried out there, almost the whole of Pagham became a no-go area for members of the public. The reason for this secrecy was the preparation of the huge concrete floating Mulberry harbours, each weighing in at a massive 6,000 tons, which arrived off Pagham beach to await towing to France in Operation Overlord at D-Day in June 1944. Fifty of these floating chambers were sunk to be hidden from enemy aircraft in the meantime and were refloated just before D-Day. A further influx of troops, this time American engineers known as ‘Seabees’, were brought in to help with the refloating. Sadly, during wartime, many of the old carriages were damaged, not by enemy action but by troops trying to keep warm and using the wood to burn. However, with the war now over, normal peacetime life slowly returned to Pagham and with it, its beach residents as well. With a make-do-and-mend wartime policy still fresh in everyone's mind, the damaged carriages were repaired and life slowly picked up again. However the ravages of war still loomed over Pagham when in 1947 the local authority, in its infinite wisdom, deemed that the ‘Railway Village’ had become a shanty town and plans to demolish it were put forward. The villagers put up a fight and won-but not to be outdone the local authority imposed many restrictions.

Life ticked along at peace until the 1960s and 1970s when yet again the local authority made moves to get rid of the Pagham beach dwellings by classing them as substandard. A report published by the former Chichester Rural District Council that this ‘shanty town’ must go brought out another residents' fighting group. The bone of contention by Chichester was that while electric and water had become standard at the beach resort, lavatories were still, in the main a 'shed and thunder box' at the bottom of the garden which was emptied weekly, and this was not acceptable. The ‘thunder boxes’ were later to be replaced by cesspits. That fighting spirit was able to win through again but with further restrictions on development imposed. Yet with a new seemingly - secure future a great deal of home improvements took place. In the late 1980s the threat of demolition returned yet again when ideas were mooted to turn the area into a marina. With a nearby national bird sanctuary of very high repute, and massive public objections to the scheme, the beach residents won a final victory. But by then the years had taken their toll on some of the old carriages. Pagham Beach often suffers storms and several of the coach homes were broken up as a result, to be replaced by modern brick-built bungalows. Luckily many old carriages still remain and most are in very good condition.

These can be seen only by the discerning railway enthusiast able to make out the carnage outline from a modernised structure. Some are covered by brick rendering, others are completely roofed over, and a few even built into large properties, with the original carriage forming an internal ‘feature' of the improvement. Two carriages have been saved from scrapping and went to the Isle of Wight Steam Railway some years ago. Those I visited were proud of the carriage heritage, many were happy to show me around, one or two were less willing - perhaps I had called at an inconvenient moment. My wife, as a young girl, had returned each year with her parents to summer holiday in Pagham and stay in the same railway carriage. With ‘annual’ friends they would happily play trains and make the appropriate railway noises and annoy the grown ups. Without doubt Pagham Beach is still an area of nostalgia, and I hope it stays that way for many more years. Any new development is subject to strict scrutiny by its Parish Council, Pagham Beach Residents Association and Arun District Council. And although the criteria is quite strict one or two have slipped through the net. The resort still retains its unique charm, yet sadly though only a few carriages retain railway names - one such is 'Buffers'.

Illustration shows an old postcard c.1930 – with early railway carriages in place on Pagham beach.

Article courtesy of Heritage Railway magazine.