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17 March 2005

Move along, please

An afternoon spent on the number 19 explores the imminent disappearance of a 'bus culture'

by Nick Underdown
Staff Reporter


End of an era: Routemaster 19 will soon be permanently out of service Andrew Green

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“Hold tight.” The bus pulls away and a man grabs on to the pole and jumps on. He walks past me and gives Kenneth a quick nod. Kenneth, a clippie on the number 19 bus route, is an endangered species.

The Routemaster buses, the rounded open-backed beauties that have lurched loyally through London streets since the mid-1950s, are soon to be a thing of the past. Most have already been taken off the road, with only a few services remaining such as the numbers 38, 14 and 159.

On 1 April, the Routemasters servicing the number 19 route will take their testimonial journeys before joining others at a graveyard garage in Enfield.

Designed specifically for London, the Routemaster has an open lower deck that enables passengers to step on and off. Distinct from the near ubiquitous one-man operated buses, Routemasters need a crew of two: a driver and a bus conductor, otherwise known as a clippie. (‘Clippie’ was originally a Scottish term for a sharp-tongued young girl, but there was later a beautiful etymological blurring when some of those sharp-tongued young girls clipped tickets as bus conductresses in Glasgow).

The clippie checks passengers’ tickets once they have boarded so as to speed up the journey. No need to fumble for change or a ticket while the driver glances impatiently at the clock.

But times have changed. One-man-operated buses are cheaper to run and the privatisation of London’s buses in 1994 has wrought the inevitable cost-cutting and litigation-awareness. Personal injury claims abound.

Gary Barnes, a bus controller at Finsbury Park bus station, mentions the dangers for elderly passengers and the one or two passenger-on-staff assaults that happen every week on the number 19 route. Only a couple of months ago a woman died on Blackstop Road after she tripped stepping off the bus and hit her head on the curb. But Mr Barnes remains slightly sentimental: “It will be a shame to see them go. I grew up with them.”

I spent an afternoon travelling both directions on the number 19 route from Finsbury Park to Battersea Bridge, and talking to Kenneth, who has worked on the route for nearly twelve years. He acknowledges the safety issues, but thinks the move to phase out the Routemasters is “terrible”.

He remembers a colourful past: “When the number 19 Routemasters were cream and burgundy. That was well outstanding.” He is a strong-looking man, 42 years old and nearly six foot - just short enough to walk the low-ceilinged aisles in the bus and check tickets.

He runs a tight ship, allowing only five passengers to stand on the lower deck. “You’ve got to be aware,” he says looking around the bus, as I slowly realise that his lack of eye contact is nothing personal. Seeing accidents before they happen and keeping control are essential for being a good clippie. “Coarse but polite,” he adds. He kindly allows me to take his usual place beneath the stairs, while he stands at the open entrance, inches away from the passing traffic.

We swap places. A well-dressed lady is just about to alight and we talk about the Routemasters’ imminent demise. “I hate the other ones,” she says. “I feel trapped. The other day there was some nutter on the bus and the driver couldn’t do anything.” She hops off into the throng of Shaftesbury Avenue.

Kenneth has overheard the conversation. “They want you to be the police, a doctor, a tourist guide,” he says. He reminds me that his style is not to engage with passengers too much, but only minutes later he gives a young couple detailed directions to Covent Garden and shouts “hold tight” as the bus leaves the stop.

“I’ve seen punch-ups, I’ve seen it all,” Kenneth confides. “Friday nights are crazy. I’ve had a woman jumping on and flashing me. She said: ‘I can’t pay, but I can show you these’.” He opens his jacket and lets out an amused cackle. “One thing the job has learnt me is how to stay calm and patient,” Kenneth admits.

He tells me how guys come in from a day on the buses and just sit nursing a cup of coffee to unwind after taking the verbal abuse from passengers. Kenneth is no well of compassion, but he understands what is needed to be an effective ticket collector.

Routemaster drivers will be in for a shock, Kenneth predicts, because they have never had to deal with the public before. Steven Rothrey, who has worked on the buses since 1970 and has driven a Routemaster for the past 14 years, is nervous. “It will take a bit of getting used to,” he says.

The drivers are sad about the change. The Routemasters will be sold off in an auction and a few sentimental drivers are buying their own. The rest will be sold to “bus nuts” as one worker from the Battersea garage affectionately describes them. For the princely sum of £2,000, the public can buy a shapely hunk of undeniably fine metropolitan history.

Many of the 50 clippies on the number 19 route will be out of a job when the Routemasters are taken out of service. Kenneth and eight others plan to work as conductors in Brixton and six more will work in Clapton where there are still Routemasters operating. But those services will be phased out by the end of 2005. Others conductors are training to be drivers.

After Brixton, Kenneth says he will stop working on the buses and try something different, but he plans to take a long break first. “I’m going to miss it,” Kenneth says ruefully. “I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren,” he consoles himself.

And in truth it will be a fair old tale. The end of the Routemasters is not simply the end of London’s treasured icon, of a vehicular masterpiece. It is the end of a mini-culture. The one-man buses mean another Perspex wall is erected between fellow city-dwellers. The culture of the clippie is replaced by buses with TV screens driven by single drivers. It is only one step away from fully automated transport. For some this is a social and heritage disaster, for which the number ‘19’ might make fine cockney rhyming slang.

nickunderdown@hotmail.com

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