The West Pier was designed and engineered by Eugenius Birch and opened in 1866. Originally the Pier had an open deck with only six small ornamental houses of oriental design, two toll houses and glass screens at the pier head to protect visitors from the wind and sun. In 1875 a central bandstand was added and five years later, weather screens, paddle steamer landing stages and a large pier head pavilion were constructed.

‘At the end of the West Pier was a theatre, which put on a variety of good plays six evenings a week, and two matinees. In the middle of the pier was the Winter Garden, rather like a huge conservatory, with plants and potted palms everywhere. Here an orchestra would play afternoons and evenings. Later, open-air dancing was introduced at the end of the pier and, weather permitting, we danced to gramophone records. We’d be protected by a high canvas windbreak with an attendant at the opening to see that no-one got in without paying. That was life on the West Pier until around 1940 when the centre of both piers were blown up to prevent attempted enemy landings.’

‘The pier was seldom short of staff as they came back year after year for their jobs. I thought it would be quite frightening working over the sea, strange thing was you never noticed it. Several times I saw porpoises basking in the sea. The first time I thought they were whales.’

‘Along the seafront near the bandstand just past the West Pier, there used to be donkey rides and a Punch and Judy Show. I would stay and watch for a long time if my mother allowed me. I never became tired of watching and laughing at this remarkable show.’

‘I always preferred the Palace Pier, but there was one attraction on the West Pier that intrigued me – an escapologist, the Great Omani. He would pour a gallon of petrol into the sea below, then tie himself up in a straightjacket, jump into the flames and – hey presto – untie himself! I would stand and watch him, fascinated, wondering what the big deal was about a man who tied himself up , escaping from his own knots! And everytime he would yell at me, ‘Hey kid, you want to watch me? The minimum price is a tanner!’ 

Stay here for the next stop, the 1360 viewing tower.

In March 2003 the West Pier suffered a terrible fire and plans for its restoration were abandoned. In 2016, The i360 was opened as a tourist attraction to eventually fund the building of a contemporary West Pier.

‘Back in 2003 I was studying film at Northbrook College and spending the day with fellow students, wandering around Brighton with an old 16mm Bolex camera. Whilst aimlessly taking street footage, one of our group heard on his portable radio about a fire at the West Pier so we immediately ran down to the beach to find it ablaze. It was a strange and awful sight. The flames were all consuming we were expecting the whole structure to completely give way at any moment. People on the beach were already gossiping about how it could have happened; “a cigarette”, “arson”,  somebody said they saw a boat speed away just before the flames.’

‘When I was a schoolboy in the 1920s we lived in Powis Square opposite St Michael’s Church. When I returned [from travelling] some years ago, I was devastated to see my beloved West Pier almost in ruins. I immediately joined the West Pier Trust. I must say that I was quite excited by the i360 project. Imagine my delight when I was invited to make a celebratory “flight” on my 100^th birthday in 2016. Would I be able to see Powis Square and the church from the top of the tower? At the top I leaned on the rail and peered northwards. Sure enough there was the church and beside it Powis Square. What a thrill!’

Continue East along the lower promenade stopping at the seafront arches, just before the groyne with the bronze, donut-shaped sculpture.

Brighton’s fish market was, from time immemorial, situated on the beach below the low cliffs near the end of East Street. When the King’s Road Arches were formed in the 1880s, nos.216-224 were set aside for the use of the fish market with a hard provided in front for stalls. The colourful and lively scene attracted many visitors who watched the proceedings from the promenade above. The market was closed by the council on hygiene grounds in 1960 and moved to Circus Street.

‘There used to be a fish market down on the seafront, just a little way along from the Palace Pier coming west. The boats would bring their fish in, and you would buy it all fresh off the barrows. Then the Council moved the market out to Circus Street where the fruit market was. Some people used to go out all night, come in with fish at six in the morning, and start selling it right away.’

‘One of our boats caught a sturgeon. I suppose it was about the late forties. It had to be offered to the Queen if a sturgeon’s caught. She refused it so we had it ourselves. If they catch an unusual fish they like to keep it alive in a bucket of salt water because they would sell them to the Aquarium and put them in the tanks there.’

‘Well, Eddie, that’s my husband, told me once when the fishermen put their nets down they thought they had got a good catch, so they hauled the net in and it was a German pilot, still sitting in the cockpit of his plane, fully dressed in his flying uniform – not a pretty sight. They said, ‘Let him go, nets and all.’ Anyway, it tore their nets to bits, which wasn’t very good.’

Continue East to the Palace Pier entrance.

The Palace Pier opened in 1899, constructed as a replacement for the Chain Pier, which collapsed in 1896 during construction. It quickly became popular, and had become a frequently-visited theatre and entertainment venue by 1911.

‘I loved going on the two piers. Brighton Palace Pier was my favourite; the West Pier was more for the adults to enjoy. In those days you had to pay to go onto the piers. The Palace Pier had more machines to play on, at a penny a go. I don’t remember ever winning any money on these machines. Some of the machines had flicking, moving pictures which was very exciting especially one called ‘What the Butler Saw’. I did not really understand the story it was telling, but found the adults were laughing, especially the ladies who giggled when viewing this machine.’

In the early 1920s, the paddle steamers, The Devonia and The Waverly would take passengers on voyages from the Palace Pier. For an outlay of five shillings (25p) you could take a trip to Ryde, Isle of Wight. For 14s 6d, good sailors feeling confident of keeping well could take a cross-channel trip to Boulogne.

‘There was a palmist and a stunt-man, who dived through flames into the sea. There was a tearoom and an orchestra, a family show in the theatre, and ballroom dancing behind screens at the end of the Palace Pier, near the jetty where the paddlesteamers came in. On rare occasions Dad took us all on the steamer to Eastbourne or the Isle of Wight, and I still remember the excitement of clattering down the iron steps of the landing stage, with the siren sounding full blast. I found seats for the family but could never stay in mine for long. I was up at the rail, or down below watching the shiny turning paddles, with Dad trailing behind to keep an eye on me.’

Continue East to Sealife Brighton (the Aquarium).

‘When the Germans occupied France in the summer of 1940 Brighton became a front-line town under direct threat of invasion from the sea. As part of their general invasion of England German planners considered a parachute landing on the South Downs to cover a seaborne attack on Brighton. On the British side plans were made to defend Brighton and evacuate the town if the Germans invaded. Bank staff were informed that, if the Germans landed during office hours, they would not be able to contact their families, but would be evacuated with the bank’s money and papers on a special train from Brighton Station. Individual citizens were told that when the invasion was signalled by the ringing of church bells, they should keep off the roads (to free them for military traffic) and walk towards London wearing bright clothing, so they would not be shot by mistake as advancing German soldiers. The ill-armed Home Guard and army must have waited anxiously behind the barbed wire and mines planted along Brighton sea front, until the summer of 1941, when the Germans marched east against the Russians and the threat of invasion was lifted.’

‘The beaches had been mined and barricaded with barbed wire, which stretched for miles along the coast. Even the two beautiful piers had been blown up in the middle. I never saw the logic of that demolition. In the pre-war days I had loved to wander on the piers, even though you had to pay to get on. I loved it especially at night when they lit up the sky with a myriad of twinkling lights. Now, all that had gone, along with the gaiety and fun. All we were left with was the blackout.’

‘And underneath the walk, along by the Aquarium, there was big, massive tanks of petrol, ready to roll into the sea, to set the sea alight in case of invasion. I suppose they must have held about ten thousand gallons.’

Continue East to the Volks Electric Railway.

On August 4th, 1883 local inventor Magnus Volk presented the people of Brighton with his latest creation – an electric railway. It operated over a quarter of a mile of line extending from a site on the seashore opposite the Aquarium to the Chain Pier.

‘If one went in the Kemp Town direction, what better than a ride on Volks Electric Railway. [Magnus Volk] was the first man to have electricity in his house in Brighton. He tried to sell the idea to Brighton Corporation, but they were not at all interested.’

‘The Volks Railway train used to cross over this crowded beach, going over our heads because the beach was then lower. Sometimes my brother used to throw stones up and try to hit the wheels of the train. I used to worry in case one of these pebbles hit the train and made it topple over onto us sitting underneath – of course it never did.’

In 1896 Volk built the unusual Brighton and Rottingdean Seashore Electric Railway. Officially called the Pioneer, but known as Daddy Long-Legs, it ran along a track in the surf from Banjo Groyne to Rottingdean. However, due to problems with the construction of lengthened groynes to the east of Paston Place this closed in 1901 and Volk’s original electric railway was extended to Black Rock. Some of the concrete sleepers that the Daddy Long-legs ran on can still be viewed on the beach at low tide.

Continue East to the Madeira Drive Lift at Concorde 2.

During the early nineteenth century, when Brighton was being developed eastward from the Old Steine, extensive work was carried out to protect the crumbling cliffs, and buildings above, from erosion by the then, much higher, tide. The seawall was extended from the Steine to Royal Crescent, encasing the cliffs in concrete and hardcore.

In 1870, the seawall was faced with stone from the original (demolished) Blackfriars Bridge in London. The new road was laid out on top of the wall using rubble from the old sea defences.

Madeira Terrace Lift and Shelter originally opened in 1890 to link Marine Parade with  Madeira Drive – then called Madeira Road. Originally powered by hydraulics, the lift descends into a shelter (now Concorde 2) which was designed to accommodate visitors during bad weather. The building was listed Grade II by English Heritage in 1971 and after a period of closure, the lift re-opened following restoration in 2007.

Continue East to the Banjo Groyne.

Banjo Groyne was built in 1887 and is so called because it is shaped like a banjo.

Since the 1930s the beach has become much higher due to the drift of shingle, but the Volks railway originally ran along the beach on a track raised by a viaduct. Back then, at high tide, the sea to the east of the Banjo Groyne came right up to the new sea wall, which was built in 1895 to extend Madeira Drive eastwards.

‘In the summer some of the kids, girls as well, used to go barefooted on nice days, so their parents could save on the shoe leather. To be in fashion, I left my boots and shoes off, and used to go with my pals down to the Banjo Groyne beach – the tide seemed to go out further then – and go bathing with clothes or swimming costumes on, girls as well, but they kept well away from us. On the way back some of the very poor children used to look for what they called Chockers; that was an apple core not eaten very much, or perhaps an orange that had only been partly sucked. The lucky finder would have first bite, and then hand it over to the next one, and so on, until it was all gone, pips and all. I never did fancy having a bite. I think I did once, but I did not like it.’

‘On the east side of the Banjo Groyne you used to have to go down steps to get to the beach. The beach below Banjo Groyne was very popular in summer as it was sheltered from the south-westerly winds. In the thirties, arc lights were suspended from the Volks railway supports and other vantage points. Those interested indulged in midnight bathing, and this stretch of shingle and sand became known as the Lido beach. During the Second World War the beaches were closed for five years and thousands of tons of shingle accumulated here covering the access steps, the wooden supports and, probably, the floodlights. Now the beaches are all the same level and the men and boys who looked over the Banjo Groyne to admire the bathing belles below are no more to be seen.’

You have now completed this walk.