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The Cabman's Shelter.

"Quite as admirable is the Cabmen's Shelter Fund which has established forty-five shelters in various parts of London, where the cabby on rank may eat, smoke, drink harmless beverages, read the newspapers. The attendants are usually superannuated cabmen. The various shelters are used by about 4,000 cabmen daily."

A few of these shelters still exist today. Although they were intended for the convenience of drivers they were run as public lunch counters and ordinary citizens patronized them as well.

Source:
Outing magazine, vol. XLV, 1904, p. 153.

Vance Thompson's Cab Drivers / 16

The London Cabby / 3

One evening – it was the day Bill had been greened for half a sovereign – we drove to the Horse Show Tavern in Vandon Street, Buckingham Gate. It was the headquarters of the London Cab-drivers Athletic Club. There were a hundred cabbies in the big square room on the first floor. Under the blazing electric lights was a twelve-foot ring. Man, man! There was clever boxing and good slugging. Had you seen the "go" between Charley Taylor and "Bat" Mullins, you would have said they were wasted in a dickey. And there is a Cricket Club; and a rowing club out Putney way. These men of the whip, believe me, have fenced off a very pleasant world in the immensity of London.

Another night Bill Worth, Not the Other One, came to my hotel – a quiet old hotel in Salisbury Square, where they have sound wine – and said: "Well, I'll tell you, guvnor, knowing your 'eart, there's a meeting at the Crown to-night for the benefit of Jock Smith, at P.H.'s, who 'as 'ad the misfortune to lose three of 'is children – age eleven years, age sixteen years, age nineteen, respectfully. That's 'ard on a father. Song an' beer an' 'baccy is the programme. For the best song a prize. Prize a Sholful* whip, presented by W. Fowler, 'air-dresser of Gray's Inn Road, an' old Bill Garner. I 'ave a song," he added; also he had the most splendid necktie I have ever seen and a flower in his buttonhole. So we cut away to Clerkenwell Green.En passant –

And this indeed is the impression they give you, darting here and there in the night. With blazing lights and a clatter of hoofs, they whirl up out of the darkness and pass – visionary, fantastic, impossible. The wry-brained inventor who put them on the streets of London fifty years ago builded better than he knew; his idiotic vehicle has become the fetich of Londoners and the one thing decorative in the streets. Today twelve thousand ply for hire. The motor-cab has come and cut the mile fare to sixpence; it is a roomy and comfortable carriage; you can get into it without breaking your hat and be pitched out of it without breaking your neck; but your conservative Londoner eyes it askance – his heart goes lightly out, like a bird, to the absurd, old, dear hansom. He loves it loyally, and not unsentimentally, as truly good men love their wives. The good man and wise! I quite agree with Bill Worth, Not the Other One.